


Kinktober 2018 Fills

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Kinktober 2018, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:06:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 20,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Archive of Kinktober 2018 fills. Individual fills are indexed and tagged in the Table of Contents in the first chapter. Fills will be added as they are completed.If you've been following along on Tumblr, you've already read these, but here they are all together for archival purposes!





	1. Table of Contents

**[Day 1- Begging](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38252408#workskin) **

(Take One) _Pairing:_ Akira/Akechi  
_Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, blowjobs

(Take Two) _Pairing:_ Akira/Akechi  
_Warnings/Tags:_ sfw, angst 

_Summary:_ In which Akira is a little more honest with Akechi than he intends to be.

**[Day 2 - Sensory Deprivation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38252477#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Ryuji  
_Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, blindfolds, blowjobs  
  
_Summary:_ In which Akira is a little shit and Ryuji suffers/enjoys the consequences.

**[Day 3 - Dirty Talk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38252552#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Ryuji  
_Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, teasing

_Summary:_ In which Akira is a little shit and Ryuji suffers/enjoys the consequences, take 2.

**[Day 4 - Knifeplay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38252585#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Cognitive Akira/Akira  
_Warnings/Tags:_ mostly sfw, knives, semi-graphic description of a gunshot wound, Persona 5 spoilers

_Summary:_ In which Akira revisits the place where he died.

**[Day 5 - Mirror Sex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38252621#workskin)  
**

_Pairing:_ Akira/Iwai  
_Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, bathroom sex, Akira has a mouth on him and Iwai likes it

_Summary:_ In which Akira has a mouth on him and Iwai likes it.

[**Day 6 -** **Crying**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38252867#workskin)

_Pairing:_ Akira/Iwai _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, fingering

_Summary:_ In which Iwai makes good on his promise about "another time."

**[Day 7 - Sadism/Masochism](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38253959#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Akechi _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ maybe nsfw? not explicitly though, waxplay, angst

_Summary:_ In which Akira makes Akechi an offer.

**[Day 8 - Shotgunning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255654#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Iwai _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ kinda nsfw, jealousy, vampires, vampire steampunk au

_Summary:_ In which Iwai is stubborn about things, including Akira.

**[Day 9 - Biting/Marking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255768#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Iwai _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ mildly nsfw, biting, vampires, age gap, vampire steampunk au

_Summary:_ In which Akira gets at least something of what he wants from Iwai.

**[Day 10 - Praise Kink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255798#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Ryuji _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, fluff

_Summary:_ In which Ryuji is a very good boy.

**[Day 11 - Aphrodisiacs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255849#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Akechi _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ briefly nsfw, implied angst, coffee, really unsubtle flirting

_Summary:_ In which Goro Akechi is the least subtle, ever.

**[Day 12 - Hatesex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255882#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Akechi _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ is kissing nsfw? late-game Persona 5 spoilers, an alternate take on the engine room scene

_Summary:_ In which the engine room scene goes a different way.

**[Day 13 - Bondage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255942#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Yusuke/Ryuji _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ mostly sfw, human furniture, some D/s overtones

_Summary:_ In which Ryuji and Yusuke get along quite well, actually.

**[Day 14 - Hair Pulling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38256089#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Akechi _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, hair pulling, biting

_Summary:_ In which Goro discovers something new about Akira.

**[Day 15 - Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38256380#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Loki/Akira/Akechi _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, persona-fucking, Akechi being a little shit, but don't worry Akira's into it

_Summary:_ In which Loki and Akira get up close and personal.

**[Day 16 - Costume/Masks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38256407#workskin) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Akechi _  
__Warnings/Tags:_ kissing but otherwise sfw, some blade/knife play

_Summary:_ In which Prince Akechi gets stood up.

**[Day 17 - Gags](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38256431#workskin) **

_Pairing:_  Akechi/Ryuji  
_Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, blowjobs in a storage closet, muffled and gagged

_Summary:_ In which Akechi and Ryuji discover that they can get along quite well, given the right circumstances.

**[Day 18 - Intercrural Sex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38320163) **

_Pairing:_  Akira/Ryuji  
_Warnings/Tags:_  nsfw, smut and fluff is the order of the day here

_Summary:_  In which Akira and Ryuji make bad (good?) use of Mementos.

**[Day 19 - Frottage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38366816) **

_Pairing:_  Akira/Iwai  
_Warnings/Tags:_  nsfw, blood, [vampire steampunk au](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/tagged/vampire+steampunk+au)

_Summary:_  In which Iwai finds that letting Akira drive his cycle has unexpected (but not unwelcome) consequences.

**[Day 20 - Body Worship](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38375444) **

_Pairing:_  Akira/Ryuji  
_Warnings/Tags:_  mostly sfw, hurt/comfort, brief description of healing injuries, post-interrogation room fallout

_Summary:_ In which Ryuji deals with the aftermath of the interrogation.

**[Day 21 - Masturbation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38570804) **

_Pairing:_ pre-Akira/Akechi, semi-implied Akechi/Loki  
_Warnings/Tags:_  nsfw, Persona 5 spoilers, vague precursor to [Day 15 fill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38256380)

_Summary:_ In which Loki makes a suggestion.

**[Day 22 - Collars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38572121) **

_Pairing:_  Yusuke/Ryuji  
_Warnings/Tags:_  pretty sfw actually, implied/discussion of D/s, continuation from [Day 13's fill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255942)

_Summary:_  In which Yusuke and Ryuji talk it out a little more.

**[Day 23 - Hand-jobs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539107) **

_Pairing:_  Joker/Akira/Arsene  
 _Warnings/Tags:_  selfcest, threesome

_Summary:_  In which Joker and Arsene take good care of Akira

**[Day 24 - Threesome](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539164) **

Fic fill - see _[my heart will destroy us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207168)_

**[Day 25 - Scars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539254) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Ryuji  
 _Warnings/Tags:_  reference to past injuries

_Summary:_  In which Akira either does or doesn't know what he's doing.

**[Day 26 - Shibari](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539356) **

_Pairing:_  Yusuke/Ryuji  
 _Warnings/Tags:_  D/s undertones

_Summary:_  In which Yusuke experiments in his new favorite medium. Follows on fills from [Day 13](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255942) and [Day 23](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38572121).

**[Day 27 - Dom/Sub](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539500#workskin) **

_Pairing:_  Akira/Iwai  
 _Warnings/Tags:_  D/s

_Summary:_  In which Iwai gets the tables turned on him and likes it.

**[Day 28 - Gun Play](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539530) **

Fic fill - see  _[you're a loaded gun (and my finger's on the trigger)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152655)_

**[Day 29 - Against a Wall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539725) **

_Pairing:_  Akira/Akechi  
 _Warnings/Tags:_  angry sex, regency au

_Summary:_  In which Akira (or Ren) establishes an alibi. This is part of a magic-regency-thieves au that may get written in 2019.

**[Day 30 - Sleepy Sex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539815) **

_Pairing:_  Joker/Akira  
 _Warnings/Tags:_  selfcest, early morning handjobs, morgana suffers the most

_Summary:_  In which Akira has a nice dream.

**[Day 31 - Roleplay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/40539896) **

_Pairing:_ Akira/Akechi  
 _Warnings/Tags:_  a small bit of angst

_**Summary:**_  In which Goro dares to dream about how things might be different. Continuation of the prince Akechi/thief Akira au from [Day 16](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38256407).


	2. Day 1 - Begging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(Take One) Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, blowjobs, begging
> 
>  **(Take Two) Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** this one’s actually mostly sfw, angst
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akira is a little more honest with Akechi than he intends to be.

_Take One_

 The noise Akira makes when Akechi licks a stripe up his cock, gloved hand firm around the base, is not  _technically_ a whine but it’s entirely too close for Akira’s peace of mind.

“God, will you just -” Akira tosses his head back against the pillow, ignoring the grin Akechi shoots him from between his legs. “Will you just  _finish_ it already?” His cock is so hard it hurts, and when Akechi rubs a thumb over the head, smearing precome around Akira bites down on a whimper.

“I don’t know,” Akechi says placidly, composed as ever despite the slick red of his lips. His grip tightens briefly on Akira’s cock and Akira’s hips jerk. “I rather like you like this.”

Akira glares at the ceiling. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it?”  _Because I will_.

“The prospect is not unappealing,” Akechi traces his fingers down the underside of Akira’s cock and Akira swallows a gasp. “I’m sure you can come up with something.”

“ _Please_.” The word escapes Akira’s lips so fast he’s not sure he’s even said it out loud, but once it’s out it’s like a dam breaking. “Please, Akechi, I’ll - don’t leave me like this -”  _don’t leave me at all_  “- I’ll do - anything you want, I’ll do it, just please,  _fuck, please let me come_.” The words leave him all in a rush and he blinks rapidly at the ceiling, eyes stinging, before glancing back down.

Akechi’s pupils are blown wide, his breath coming faster and a flush spreading across his cheeks. His hips shift against the bed and he visibly takes hold of himself, breathing in deliberately before he bends his head back toward Akira’s cock.

“I think, under the circumstances, you can call me Goro,” he says, before he’s swallowing Akira down again and  _god_ , this time he doesn’t stop. Akira’s hands scrabble in the bedcovers as his body tightens, Goro’s hands holding his hips down as he tries to thrust up into that slick, wet heat. He’s close, he’s so close, and then Goro hollows out his cheeks and  _sucks_  and Akira’s head snaps back against the pillow, mouth dropping open as he comes hard enough to steal his breath.

As he’s struggling to remember how to get air in the bed shifts, and Goro climbs up over him, dropping biting kisses below Akira’s ear and down his jawline.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, nosing against the soft skin underneath Akira’s chin. “ _Anything_.”

Akira clears his throat, glad that Goro can’t see his face. “Yes.”

This close Akira can hear how Goro’s breath hitches in his chest, feel the soft inhale against his throat.

“ _Anything_  is a tall order,” Goro says, drawing back enough to press his lips briefly to Akira’s. “Be careful with your promises. I might just collect.”

* * *

_Take Two_

  _ **Notes:** this was actually my first attempt at this prompt, but it didn’t seem appropriately smutty. I still wanted to post it, though._

“Akechi -  _wait_.” Akira makes a grab for his hand. Akechi’s shoulders go tight but he stops as Akira’s fingers close around his wrist. He turns, lip curling, and Akira suddenly can’t bear to hear what lie is going to come out next so he steps up close and seals their mouths together.

Akechi starts, but it only takes a second before he’s kissing back and Akira’s heart sings even as it breaks because there’s no purpose that this serves, no reason for Akechi’s lips to be moving against his own except that Akechi  _wants_  to.

Akira holds on to that tightly, even as he pulls back and rests his forehead against Akechi’s.

“Stay,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “We don’t have to - just, stay with me tonight?”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then -

“Beg,” Akechi murmurs, in a tone that says that he knows Akira won’t. “Bend that pride for me and I will.”

Akira opens his eyes.

“ _Please_ ,” he says, watching Akechi’s eyes widen. If Akechi thinks there are lines Akira won’t cross for him -

Maybe there are. But Akira hasn’t found them yet.

“Please stay,” he says. “I won’t - I won’t ask for more than you’re willing to give. But I need - I want -” Akira has to bite his tongue on all the things he wants to say.  _I want things to be different. I want more for us than this._

“I want  _you_ ,” he says finally, and that might be the barest truth of all. “In whatever way I can have you. Please stay,” he finishes in a rush. “Even if it’s just for tonight.”

Akechi’s wrist turns, and then he’s lacing their fingers together, the leather of his gloves cool against Akira’s fingers.

“You continue to surprise me,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips over Akira’s. “Maybe one day I’ll learn,” he murmurs against Akira’s mouth.

There is nothing remotely safe Akira can say to that, but Akechi seems willing to accept another kiss in lieu of an answer; and anyway words are less important than sliding a hand around the back of Akechi’s neck and pulling him close, closer, against the day Akira will have to let go.


	3. Day 2 - Sensory Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, blindfolds, blowjobs
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akira is a little shit and Ryuji suffers/enjoys the consequences.

“You okay?” Akira’s voice is a low comfort in the darkness, his hands brushing against the back of Ryuji’s head. It’s - strange, being unable to see; he feels acutely aware of the heat radiating off Akira’s body as he stands between Ryuji’s legs, affixing the blindfold, and Ryuji wants to lean forward and wrap his arms around Akira’s waist, to bury his face in that warmth.

Akira’s hands slide down to Ryuji’s shoulders. “Ryuji?”

Ryuji licks his lips and nods. “I’m - yeah. I’m good.”

“Good.” Ryuji doesn’t need to see the grin on Akira’s face to know it’s there. “Stay there,” he says, hands trailing down Ryuji’s body as he settles on his knees, as if Ryuji has  _any_ intention of leaving.

The first brush of Akira’s fingers against his crotch has Ryuji biting his tongue on an embarrassing noise, and he feels his cheeks heat even as his breath speeds up. He’s just so goddamned  _easy_ for Akira; but it’s hard to feel any shame about that when Akira’s hands are undoing his pants with long, skillful fingers. Ryuji will deny to his grave that the sound he makes when Akira gets a hand on him is a whimper; but then Akira’s lips press against his cock and Ryuji  _moans_ , bracing himself on the bed as Akira takes him into his mouth.

Akira’s mouth is hot and wet and so fucking  _perfect_ ; Ryuji can picture what he looks like, even with the blindfold: lips red and wet, cheeks hollowed out, eyes glinting as he rolls his eyes up to check on Ryuji. If anyone can smirk around a dick in his mouth Akira can, and Ryuji almost regrets missing out on seeing it. But without his sight his other senses seem to be scrambling to catch up; his skin tingles everywhere Akira touches him, and the wet sounds of Akira’s mouth on him just make him harder, hips jerking and a whine escaping his lungs.

Akira pauses, pulling off with an obscene  _pop_ and settling his hands on Ryuji’s hips. “Hold still,” he says, and before Ryuji can catch his breath Akira’s mouth is on him again. Ryuji hisses when he hits the back of Akira’s throat, trying to pull back, but Akira’s hands tighten on him and he presses forward and holy  _shit_ Akira’s taking him all the way in - Ryuji is going to die right here and he’s going to die happy. His body strains with the effort not to thrust into that tight, wet heat but then Akira swallows around him and Ryuji feels like he’s been hit with his own lightning, electrified from head to toe. He’s dimly aware that he’s coming, and when Akira swallows again Ryuji collapses back on the bed, arms suddenly shaky.

Akira lets Ryuji slip from his mouth, coughing a little, then the bed dips as he climbs up on it. Ryuji blinks against the sudden brightness as Akira pushes the blindfold up.

“You okay?” Akira clears his throat again, but he looks so incredibly smug that Ryuji would smack him for it if he hadn’t just had the blowjob of his life.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” It appears to be the only thing he’s capable of saying. He’s pretty sure he knows some other words, but none of them seem appropriate.

Akira’s grin gets wider, and Ryuji can’t have him thinking he’s won even though he  _definitely_ has, so he grabs Akira by the collar and pulls him down into a sloppy kiss that’s the best he can manage at the moment. Akira returns it enthusiastically, humming into Ryuji’s mouth, and Ryuji shivers at the thought that he can taste himself on Akira’s tongue.

“God _damn_ ,” he says when he finally lets Akira go. “When you’ve got good ideas, you’ve got  _good_ ideas.”

“All my ideas are good,” Akira says, settling on his side next to Ryuji, and Ryuji laughs.

“Debatable,” he says, leaning in for another kiss. “But I’ll let you have this one.”


	4. Day 3 - Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, teasing
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akira is a little shit and Ryuji suffers/enjoys the consequences, take 2.

“Hah! I’m unstoppable,” Ryuji crows, hefting his controller over his head as his character delivers the finishing blow. Akira scowls at the screen.

“Best two out of three,” he says, fingers tightening on the controller as the next round loads. “And let’s - let’s make this interesting,” he decides, elbowing Ryuji as he snags Akira’s favorite character.

Ryuji elbows him back. “ _Interesting_  is me wiping the floor with your face,” he says. “But I’m listening.”

“Loser blows the winner while they run the next round solo,” Akira says calmly, allowing himself the smallest grin at the strangled noise Ryuji makes, and dealing a three-hit combo before Ryuji can recover.

“You think you’ve got what it takes?” Ryuji says, voice strained as he goes on the defensive. When Akira peeks over his eyes are glued to the screen but his pupils are large and his knuckles are white on the controller.

Akira grins.

“To what?” he asks, keeping his voice low, mindful of the burble of noise from the cafe below. “To win? Or to get on my knees for you, to let you fuck my mouth while you play? I think the question, Ryuji,” he says, letting his voice turn sly as he lands another blow. “Is do  _you_  have what it takes - do you have the will to get me where you want me, my lips wrapped around your cock, warm and wet and yours for the taking.” Ryuji’s controller clatters to the floor, but when Akira glances over Ryuji’s gaze is still fixed unblinking on the screen, mouth hanging open. Akira slides four hits under his defenses and smirks as  _Victory Player 1_  flashes across the screen, turning to face Ryuji more fully.

“Or maybe it’s the other way around,” he says as he sets his controller down, leaning over and sliding an arm around Ryuji’s shoulders. “Maybe you  _want_ to lose. Maybe what  _you_  want is to be on your knees for  _me_. Either way I’d be good to you Ryuji, so good,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over the shell of Ryuji’s ear.

Ryuji has gone so still Akira’s not even sure he’s  _breathing_. Then takes a deep, deliberate breath and picks up his controller again.

“Best two out of three,” he says, voice determined even as it cracks a little on  _three_. He’s still staring fixedly at the screen as he chooses his fighter, but his ears have gone bright red.

“That’s the spirit,” Akira says, picking his own controller back up. “Bring it on.”


	5. Day 4 - Knifeplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Cognitive-Akira/Akira  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** mostly sfw, knives, semi-graphic description of a gunshot wound, implicit persona 5 spoilers
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akira revisits the place where he died.
> 
> ([Based on this](https://loki0304.tumblr.com/post/167983104941))

He shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous enough for him to be out in public - he’s supposed to be dead, so probably no one’s  _actively_  looking for him, but there’s always the risk of being recognized by the wrong party - but it’s even less safe to be in the Metaverse alone, without even Morgana to back him up. Morgana has his own investigations of Mementos, however, and Akira has - this.

In the Metaverse the justice building is empty, even emptier than when he was dragged through it in cuffs. Now his hands are free but he still rubs at one red-gloved wrist as the elevator moves down, dropping floor after floor without a single Shadow in sight. He wonders where they are; wonders if they tend to concentrate in Palaces, if they’re drawn into the orbit of a strong personality just as humans are.

It hardly matters. It’s probably just as well that he doesn’t encounter any; he would welcome the distraction of a fight, but that’s not why he’s here. He’s not sure why he  _is_  here, except that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s like poking at a bruise - and he still has plenty of those - painful, but he can’t seem to help himself.

The door slides open without the need for a keycard or a passcode, and the room where he was held and interrogated for long endless hours is - not empty.

His cognitive double sits at the metal table, legs crossed and hands folded patiently. Akira’s eyes dart up but there’s no blood on his forehead, no wound, no mark to show what happened between him and Akechi. Akira doesn’t even know where Akechi had shot him. He dreams about it, sometimes, but he doesn’t  _know_.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the other Akira says, and Akira steps forward, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“Why are you here?” Akira says, and his double smiles, just this side of unfriendly.

“Why are  _you_?” The double gets up, circling the table, and Akira watches warily as he closes the distance between them. The double gets right up into his space, sliding his hands inside Akira’s coat. Akira tenses, but the double’s hands just settle on his waist, warm and real as anything.

“Did you come to see what he did to me?” The double asks, and Akira’s eyes snap back up. “It wasn’t pretty. But I can show you, if you’d like.”

Akira breathes in and out through his nose, then nods. He thinks this may have been why he did come here: to  _know_. To see for himself.

The double’s mouth pulls up and then there’s blood everywhere, his face covered in a mask of red. Akira wonders if this is what he looked like when he awaked to Arsene, eyes wide and smile bloody. There’s something different here, though: a black, damning hole in the middle of his forehead that Akira can’t seem to look away from; he reaches up, but pulls his hand back into a fist before he can touch it.

“It’s not real, of course.” His double’s voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. “None of this is real.”

The double hooks a leg behind his and  _pushes_  all at once, and Akira throws out his hands to catch himself as his feet go out from under him. The double rides him down so he ends up astride Akira’s thighs and in the confusion of limbs and falling he’s somehow managed to get Akira’s dagger out of the sheath strapped to his thigh. Akira breathes shallowly as the edge presses under his jaw, lifting his head so he meets his double’s eyes.

“I don’t blame you,” the double croons, lifting the blade so Akira’s neck tilts at an uncomfortable angle. His face is clean again but his amber eyes  _burn_.  “I wouldn’t exist at all if you hadn’t done it. But I want to come home,” he says, pressing the hand not holding the knife over Akira’s heart. “You won’t leave me here, will you?”

“Never,” Akira promises, leaning forward despite the kiss of the blade against his skin. The double’s mouth tastes of copper and iron, and he leans into it, into Akira, lips harsh and demanding as the blade bites into Akira’s skin.

Then the weight over Akira’s thighs evaporates, the dagger clattering to the floor. Akira’s breath leaves him in a rush and he opens eyes he doesn’t remember closing to an empty room.

_I want to come home_. Akira presses a hand over his heart. He thinks that he can feel it, the double-beat of his other self back where he belongs; changed, and maybe he doesn’t fit as seamlessly as he did before, but Akira is unwilling to leave any more pieces of himself behind.

The knife slips back into its sheath like it was never gone. Getting up is a matter of dusting himself off and rubbing a hand over his neck. His gloves come away clean, his skin scored but unbroken. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, Akira thinks.

The door opens as easily as it did from the other side; it would not, Akira knows, do so as easily in the real world, but the Metaverse has its own rules. Akira wonders how strong his hold on this place is now; in this place where he spent the longest hours of his life, in this place where he died.

Akira wonders how easily the doors would open for Akechi.

He should get going. The longer he’s gone the greater the odds someone will notice his absence; the greater the chance he’ll be recognized on the streets as he heads back home. He rubs his hand over his heart again and closes the door behind him.

He doesn’t think he’ll need to come back here again.


	6. Day 5 - Mirror Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Pairing:_ Akira/Iwai  
>  _Warnings/Tags:_ nsfw, bathroom sex, Akira has a mouth on him and Iwai likes it
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akira has a mouth on him and Iwai likes it.

Iwai’s fingers twist inside him and Akira gasps, watching pleasure flit across his face in  _Untouchable’s_ cracked bathroom mirror. His hands tighten on the tiny sink but his eyes remain locked with his reflection as Iwai rubs back and forth over that electric spot inside him, sending sparks up his spine and stealing the strength in his legs.

“Come on, I’m -” he gasps again as Iwai curls his fingers, and his legs shake. “I’m good, c’mon, I’m  _ready_ already.”

Iwai props his head on Akira’s shoulders and grins at him in the mirror. “I think you could come just like this.” He scissors his fingers apart and Akira’s mouth falls open, head dropping back. “Whadd’ya think, kid?”

Akira swallows. “I think -” he meets Iwai’s gaze in the mirror. “I thought you were going to fuck me, but if you’re not up to it - ”

Iwai huffs. “Not up to it, he says.” Iwai pulls his fingers out, and Akira barely has time to miss them before here’s the sound of a condom wrapper tearing behind him and something larger than fingers presses against his entrance. “You’re lucky I like your mouth.”

“You love my -” Akira cuts off as Iwai pushes in, bracing himself against the sink and watching pink spread across his cheeks. He can’t help the little noise he makes when Iwai pulls back and pushes in again, deeper than before, and he can’t seem to look away from the flush climbing up above the collar of his shirt.

He looks - he looks  _messy_ , mouth open and red, hair damp with sweat, the collar of his shirt hanging loose where Iwai had pulled it aside to suck kisses into the juncture of shoulder and neck. It’s a far cry from the unassuming presentation he checks in the mirror every morning before he heads out - but Iwai seems to delight in ruining that careful effort, in making  _Akira_ ruin it. Iwai likes him flushed and sweaty and  _raw_ , and Akira -

Akira likes it too. He keeps coming back, after all.

Iwai reaches around and gets a hand on Akira’s cock and Akira sucks a breath in, arms locking against the sink as Iwai starts to stroke. It’s rough and fast, but it’s just what he needs, and Akira chokes on the tightness around his ribs as he comes, his reflection gone blurry as his eyes unfocus. Iwai grunts against his shoulder and grinds into Akira’s ass, fingers going bruising tight on his hips - then he relaxes, breath blowing out past Akira’s ear, and Akira feels a warm bloom of satisfaction in his chest.

He shifts carefully as Iwai pulls out. He’s going to be feeling this all the way home, but it’s a good kind of soreness; a souvenir he can take with him and remember Iwai’s gruff voice voice in his ear, his broad hands on his hips. He sneaks another glance at his reflection as he adjusts his clothing, and runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to restore it to some kind of order. It doesn’t work; he still looks thoroughly disheveled, color high on his cheeks and creeping up his neck.

“ ‘S a good look on you,” Iwai says, sliding his hands around Akira’s waist and meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“Freshly fucked?” Akira says before he thinks about it. Iwai laughs.

“Yeah. A man could get used to this, you know,” he says, nosing into Akira’s hairline and pulling him close.

Akira sucks in a breath as Iwai’s breath ghosts over his ear. “I’ll think about it,” he says, and Iwai chuckles as if he can already hear the  _yes_.


	7. Day 6 - Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Iwai  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, fingering
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Iwai makes good on his promise about "another time."

Akira shifts over Iwai’s lap, pushing back into Iwai’s hands. Iwai chuckles in his ear, curling his fingers, and Akira gasps at the stretch, spine straightening and hands tightening on Iwai’s shoulders. **  
**

“Is that -” he has to pause and close his eyes for a second the movement sinks him another fraction on to Iwai’s fingers. “Is that all you’ve got? Old man.” He grins as Iwai huffs.

“Unlike  _some_ people,” Iwai says, free hand shifting on Akira’s thigh. “I know how to be patient.” He curls his fingers again and Akira sucks in a breath.

“I don’t -” He squeezes his eyes shut, rocking up and back down on Iwai’s fingers. It’s good, it’s so good, but it’s not  _enough_. This is usually where Iwai pulls his pants the rest of the way down and fucks him, but today he’s being  _stubborn_ and Akira doesn’t know if he’s going to survive it.

“Shh, yeah you can.” Iwai’s voice sounds low and sure in the darkness behind his eyelids. “Look, I haven’t even touched your dick and you’re about to jizz your pants.”

“That’s not -” Akira drags in a ragged breath. “That’s not the  _point_.”

“No,” Iwai agrees. “The  _point_ is that I’m not going to fuck you until you come once on my fingers, and you’re almost there, just a little bit longer, I know you can.”

Akira tosses his head back, clenching his teeth on a whine. He  _is_ close; his skin feels like it’s on fire, oversensitive, and every shift of his thighs pulls the fabric of his pants taut over his straining dick. His hips twitch forward, desperate for some kind of friction, but Iwai’s hands hold him in place and it’s not enough for the coiling tension in his gut, it’s not  _enough_.

“Shit, kid.” Iwai’s gruff voice startles him out of his thoughts. “Are you crying?”

Akira blinks furiously and looks down, glaring. “ _No_.”

“Yeah, you are.” Iwai sounds awed. A calloused thumb rubs underneath his eye, bumping his glasses and smearing wetness even as Akira’s cheeks heat. “God _damn_. Here, c’mere” He pulls Akira close and Akira can’t help the noise of relief that escapes him as his hips press against Iwai’s stomach. Iwai’s fingers are a thick fullness inside of him, and Iwai holds him close as Akira grinds shamelessly against him; forward into his hips and back onto his fingers and when Akira comes he bites down on Iwai’s shoulder to muffle the sob that tears from his lungs.

Akira’s lying boneless, face tucked into Iwai’s shoulder when Iwai’s whole chest rumbles with a laugh.

“Goddamn, that was hot.” Iwai shifts underneath him and Akira can feel Iwai’s cock hard against his thigh. “Just gotta know what buttons to push, huh.”

“Do  _not_ ,” Akira grumbles, but he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, not when he’s still catching his breath from a pretty  _fucking_ great orgasm.

“Maybe just on special occasions,” Iwai allows, one hand rubbing circles high on Akira’s back. “You know, like Thursdays.”


	8. Day 7 - Sadism/Masochism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** maybe nsfw? not explicitly though, waxplay, angst
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akira makes Akechi an offer.

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this,” Goro grumbles against the pillow. The bare skin of his back pebbles against the perpetual chill in Akira’s room. It’s barely noticeable with his clothes on, but stripped to the waist, on the floor on his stomach on a second-hand sheet - Goro blames the oncoming winter and poor insulation and not,  _not_  anything like anticipation.

“I barely had to do any talking,” Akira says as his weight settles over the back of Goro’s thighs. For all that they’ve fucked in Akira’s absurd excuse for a bed, this feels  _incredibly_  intimate and Goro is glad his face is turned away.

He’s listening so intently for the strike of a match that he barely registers the snap of a cap, and he starts when Akira lays his hands on his back, gliding over his skin, warm and slick with -

Goro twists his head around as best he can. “ _What_  are you putting on me?”

“Baby oil. I did my research,” Akira says when Goro just looks at him.

“Not at school, I hope,” Goro mutters, then makes an undignified sound when Akira’s thumbs dig into a knot high on his back.

“No,” Akira says, amused. “Not at school.”

Goro sighs involuntarily as the muscle releases underneath Akira’s insistent fingers, and settles his head back down. His hands flex underneath the pillow as Akira’s strong fingers work up and down his back; this is  _probably_  more preparation than is really necessary but it’s - nice, to have Akira’s hands on him, easing away the tension Goro had forgotten he was carrying. He breathes in and out slowly, letting himself drift, Akira’s warm hands a welcome contrast to the chill in the air.

The faint acrid smell of a match brings him back to himself a little, and one of Akira’s hands is solid against Goro’s side when he says, “Ready?”

“Mmm,” Goro says, blinking, and then, remembering what they’re doing here, “Yes.”

He knows it’s coming but the first splash of wax against his skin is still a flash of searing heat that makes his skin jump. It  _burns_ , but only for a second; almost before he realizes he’s felt it the wax is cooling, leaving only the memory of fire.

Akira’s hand squeezes his side. “You okay?”

It takes Goro a second to find his breath, but when he does, the answer is unequivocally “ _Yes_.”

Akira’s hand squeezes again, and his weight shifts as he leans forwards. Goro blows out a breath as the next droplets hit his skin, each with that flashing sear followed by a fading warmth. They’re coming closer together now, Akira sketching out some design Goro can’t follow. It hardly matters; it’s easier to close his eyes as the sensations blur into one another, the chill in the air rendering the initial sting that much hotter and cooling it that much faster.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, drifting in a tide of heat, anchored by Akira’s weight on his thighs and hand on his side. At one point Akira puts the candle down and traces his fingers over the design he’s made; Goro hums, the sensation dulled by the layer of wax on his skin but still there.

Eventually he realizes that the splashes of heat against his back have stopped, that Akira has both hands on him now, rubbing idle circles at the small of his back. It feels nice, but -

Goro turns his head and cracks an eye open. “Are you finished?”

Akira smiles at him. Goro will die before he admits he has a catalog of Akira’s smiles but this is one of his favorites: small and private and just for him.

“Are you?” Akira asks. “You seemed to be having a good time. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Another time Goro would be irritated by that but right now he feels too warm and - floaty, he guesses, to give that the comeback it deserves. Instead he rolls his shoulders, feeling the cooled wax shift and crack against his skin.

“Were you planning to leave this, or…?” He trails off and Akira leans forward dutifully.

“The offer’s open,” he says as he begins peeling off sections of wax and Goro frowns because that - that sounds like it means something else, but he’s frankly feeling too good right now to worry about it.

The wax peels off almost as fast as it went on, and Goro stretches, luxuriating in the feel of Akira’s careful hands on him. He may, perhaps, pout into the pillow when Akira shifts back and off of his thighs, but he schools it into a more neutral expression by the time Akira’s hands are back on him, helping him up.

“I’m fine; I don’t need -” He cuts himself off as he wobbles a little on his feet, but Akira is there immediately, one hand steadying his elbow and his other arm wrapping around his waist.

“You don’t have to do everything alone,” Akira says into his hair, just above his ear, and that  _definitely_  means more than it sounds like but Goro just isn’t in the mood to think about - any of that.

“I’m going to use your washroom,” he announces. “And yes, I do intend to do that alone,” he adds when it looks like Akira might follow him.

Akira’s hands part from him reluctantly, and Goro makes his way carefully down the stairs to the ground floor. The cafe is closed, for which he is grateful as he realizes he forgot to put his shirt back on. It’s just as well - his skin is probably still too tender for that to be comfortable.

As he’s washing up he glances at himself in the mirror and he looks - relaxed, in way that he hasn’t felt in years. His eyes are soft and sleepy, and he has this dopey half-smile that he didn’t realize he was wearing.

It’s a good thing there’s no one around but Akira to see him. Speaking of, though -

Goro turns, and cranes his neck over his shoulder as best he can to see Akira’s handiwork. For a moment he thinks it’s just a crisscross of lines, pink against his pale skin, but then the shapes resolve before his eyes, and -

The shape is unmistakable, sweeping over his shoulder blades and down his ribcage. Goro stares until he begins to shake, and then he turns and leans back against the sink. He presses a hand over his mouth.

Wings. Akira’s given him  _wings_.

There’s a knock on the door. “Goro?” Akira sounds concerned. “I’m just - you’ve been in there a while. Yell at me if you want me to go away, or something.”

Goro pushes off from the sink, opens the door, and walks straight into Akira’s arms, burying his face in his neck. Akira’s arms settle immediately around him, careful of his sensitive skin, and Goro draws in a deep, shuddering breath.

“I mean it,” Akira murmurs, as if he can read Goro’s thoughts better than he can. “Every word.”

And Goro - Goro  _can’t_  give him what he wants, not when Akira’s the last obstacle between Goro and everything he’s ever worked for.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says instead, and Akira’s arms tighten around him before releasing on a sigh.

Goro can’t give Akira what he wants, and the cruelty in that slices deeper than any knife.

But if he could. Oh, if he  _could_. 


	9. Day 8 - Shotgunning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Iwai  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** kinda nsfw, jealousy, vampire steampunk au
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Iwai is stubborn about things, including Akira.
> 
>  **Notes:** part of [an au](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/tagged/vampire+steampunk+au) spun up with tumblr user [jilldrawblog](http://jilldrawblog.tumblr.com)

The  _Untouchable_ lurks between two equally disreputable storefronts, down an alley that young men from respectable families like Akira’s aren’t even supposed to  _know_ about, much less frequent.

Akira’s family is - not here, however, and anyway he’s not sure  _respectable_ holds the value for him that it once did.  _Untouchable_ and it’s proprietor are certainly far more  _interesting_ than  _respectable_ , and of the two Akira will take  _interesting_ any day.

The shopfront is empty and dim, artifacts and oddities of Iwai’s own creation lining the shelves. The counter is silent and empty, but Akira doesn’t let that deter him. There’s a chill in the air that never fully dissipates, even during the height of summer, and Akira shivers as he pushes into the back, into Iwai’s workshop.

The workshop is slightly warmer; there’s a small brazier in the corner, but it’s cold and dark, the coals long since burned to ash. Iwai’s clearly forgotten about it, but it brings a smile to Akira’s face that he’d made the effort; it’s of no benefit to Iwai, after all.

The acrid burn of smoke in the air is coming not from the brazier but the cigarette held absently between Iwai’s lips as he tinkers with a gyroscope. The workbench is covered in pieces of what Akira is coming to recognize as engine parts; Iwai might well have his entire cycle disassembled here, halfway through a retrofit.

Iwai’s face is a healthy pink, his cheeks flushed, and Akira’s stomach twists.

“Was she pretty? Lunch,” he clarifies as Iwai glances his way. This is petty but he  _feels_ petty, the sting of jealousy prodding him onwards.

Iwai makes one final adjustment to the scope in his hands and puts it down, turning and pulling the cigarette from his lips. He blows a stream of smoke into the air and locks eyes with Akira, red glinting in the back of his pupils.

“ _He_ was very pretty.” He looks Akira up and down. “Almost as pretty as you.”

Akira flushes. “Then why -”

“We’ve been over this.” Iwai takes a drag on the cigarette. “You don’t want this kind of life, kid. You can do better.”

The tension in his stomach twists and snaps. “Don’t  _tell_ me,” Akira says, stalking forward. “What I  _want_.”

Iwai doesn’t move to stop him when Akira slides one knee onto the chair, or when he braces an arm beside Iwai’s head, instead watching Akira with hooded eyes as he brings the cigarette back up to his mouth. He takes a long drag, but before he can blow it out again Akira leans forward, sealing their mouths together.

Iwai’s lips parts against his, startled, and Akira inhales greedily, letting the smoke fill his lungs, dark and acrid and warm. Just like Iwai. He holds it as long as he can, until he’s dizzy for oxygen, then turns his head and lets it go, drawing in a clean breath.

“I want what you have to offer,” he says turning back. He’s light-headed but it’s worth it because Iwai looks like he’s been hit by his own cycle, mouth agape and cigarette hanging forgotten from his fingers. His eyes, though - his eyes are dark and  _hungry_ and Akira feels the bloom of satisfaction in his chest.

“I’m not offering,” Iwai says faintly, but it has the air of a lie he’s trying to convince himself of.

Akira grins and straightens, fingers trailing down Iwai’s chest. “Yet.”


	10. Day 9 - Biting/Marking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Iwai  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** mildly nsfw, biting, vampires, age gap, vampire steamunk au
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akira gets at least something of what he wants from Iwai.
> 
>  **Notes:** more of the [vampire Iwai AU](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/tagged/vampire+steampunk+au)

This is, Iwai thinks even as Akira leans back and undoes his cravat, a bad idea.

Of course, he’s thought that ever since Akira strolled into his shop last spring, all bleeding edges and a deep, raw anger beneath a pair of brand new boots and an impeccably cut waistcoat. That kind of style doesn’t come cheap, but neither does that kind of rage; Iwai’s seen angry young men before - he had been one, so long ago it barely seems worth remembering - and they’re usually more trouble than they’re worth.

Iwai should have turned him away right then and there, should have turned him away every time Akira came back, but he hadn’t.

He hadn’t, and now here they are, Akira kneeling astride Iwai’s lap and leaning back, confident either in the muscles in his thighs or that Iwai will catch him. He’s not wrong, Iwai thinks ruefully as he slides his hands up Akira’s back to hold him steady; he should have turned Akira away but he hadn’t and now he can’t  _not_  steady him as Akira pulls the collar of his shirt down to his shoulder, baring all of that pale skin.

Iwai licks his lips, and Akira grins.

Iwai growls, letting it roll more than he usually does in polite company; Akira’s breath sucks in but Iwai’s already pulling him closer, nuzzling into the juncture of neck and shoulder and just breathing in. He can taste the coffee beans Akira spends his days with, the soap he’d used this morning. Akira smells warm and alive and  _human_ , and Iwai intends to keep him that way.

Akira shudders against him, and Iwai has the vague notion that it’s not too late, he could still put a stop to this -

Then Akira’s arm snakes around his shoulders, hand combing through Iwai’s short hair and Iwai thinks, there’s no harm in a small taste.

The noise Akira makes when Iwai’s fangs brush against his skin is definitively  _not_  fear; Iwai smiles against his neck, then sets his teeth and  _bites_.

Akira sighs above him, and Iwai groans as the taste of blood hits his tongue. He keeps himself fed - there’s no use denying what he is - but he doesn’t gorge himself anymore and there’s something about feeding just because he  _can_ , a decadence he’s denied himself too long. Akira’s blood runs hot; it tastes of iron, of a fury banked but not extinguished.

His body flushes with warmth; Akira makes a sleepy noise of interest as Iwai’s hips roll against his and Iwai makes an effort to hold himself still. A little more won’t hurt, surely. It’s been ages since Iwai fed for pleasure; and it  _is_  a pleasure, Akira a warm boneless weight against his chest.

Iwai pulls back before he really wants to, licking his lips and trying to ignore the blood welling up in the puncture marks. A piece of fresh cotton pressed to Akira’s neck slows the bleeding, and Iwai takes Akira’s hand and presses it against the makeshift bandage, holding it in place.

“You’re going to be feeling that, later,” he says, and Akira grins at him, slow and lazy.

“I’m feeling it now,” he says, voice husky and eyelids low.

“You’re high on bloodsucker toxin,” Iwai says bluntly, and Akira laughs.

“Maybe a little,” he says carefully, then he slumps back down against Iwai. Iwai’s hand comes up to rest on his back automatically, and Akira lets out a happy little sigh.

“But later, when I’m not,” he murmurs next to Iwai’s ear. “Later I’ll feel this and think of you, when I’m sitting through another interminable dinner or salon. I’ll sit there and I’ll smile and I’ll be thinking of your teeth on me, and all the society darlings, they’ll have no fucking  _clue_.”

“ _Fuck_ , kid.” Iwai has no idea how to finish that sentence. Akira’s trouble; there’s no doubt about that.

But Iwai’s starting to think he might be worth it.


	11. Day 10 - Praise Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, fluff
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Goro Akechi is the least subtle, ever.

Ryuji knows he’s found the right spot against Akira’s neck when Akira arches against him, hands scrabbling against his back.

“ _Ohgod_ , that’s -” Ryuji runs his teeth over that spot and Akira cuts off, breath catching.

“That good?” Ryuji sets his mouth against Akira’s neck and sucks gently; it won’t leave a mark but it makes Akira’s hips grind up into his.

“ _Fuck_  yes, so good,  _you’re_  so good.” It catches Ryuji off guard; his own hips jerk and he can’t help the noise he makes into Akira’s skin. Akira stills, and a moment later Akira’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing him back.

Akira looks damn good like this - dark, sweat-damp hair spread out on the pillow - but he also looks like he’s had a revelation, like he’s solved something he hadn’t realized was a puzzle.

“You like that,” he says, and it’s not a question. “You like it when I tell you how good you are.”

If Akira’s not technically  _asking_  then Ryuji doesn’t need to answer and give himself away; but his face must betray him because Akira grins and pulls him back down.

“Then you’re in luck, Ryuji Sakamoto,” he purrs into Ryuji’s ear, and Ryuji shudders because he  _knows_  that tone. He usually hears it in the metaverse, when Akira’s knocked a shadow on its ass: smooth and self-satisfied and utterly confident about how the next few minutes are going to go.

“Because I could spend hours,” Akira continues. “ _Hours_  telling you how good for me you are. Don’t think I don’t notice. You know my favorite soda and my ramen order; you know how I take my coffee even if you can’t stand the taste and you always,  _always_ have my back.”

Ryuji feels his arms tremble and shakes his head. “God, Akira, you gotta -”

“Stop? I don’t think so.” Akira sounds as smug as Ryuji’s ever heard him, hands sliding up and down Ryuji’s back. Akira shifts, sliding his thigh between Ryuji’s legs, and Ryuji whimpers into his neck. “You don’t hear it enough but you’re so fucking good, such a good boy for me.”

Ryuji’s hips buck and Akira holds him tightly, pressing up into him as Ryuji grinds down. It’s - it’s almost  _too_  much, Akira’s words lighting up in his brain and Akira’s thigh pressing deliciously against his dick, and if Akira doesn’t  _stop_  he’s going to -

“Sometimes I think you’d do anything I asked,” Akira says, low and sure like he  _knows_ ; and the hell of it is that he’s  _not_  wrong. Ryuji can’t think of a single thing that he’d deny Akira if he asked, he can’t  _think_  past the lightning up his spine and in his head and the tension pooling low and warm in his gut.

“C’mon, Ryuji,” Akira coaxes. “I know you’re close. Show me how good you are and come for me.”

Ryuji  _sobs_  into Akira’s neck as his orgasm tears through him. He grinds down against Akira’s thigh, hips jerking and body pulling so taught he feels like he might snap; but Akira’s arms tighten around him, holding him down, grounding him, and Ryuji sinks into that warmth, into that  _care_  and just lets go.

Akira pets his hair and lets him breathe. After a few minutes Ryuji shifts, grimacing at the stickiness in his pants, before it occurs to him -

“ _Oh_   _shi_  - did you…” He trails off when he gets a look at Akira’s face, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

“Oh. Yeah, um.” Akira slides a hand up his cheek. “You’re very, uh. Compelling.”

The grin on Ryuji’s face is starting to make his cheeks hurt. “Yeah, well. Back atcha.”

That softens the look on Akira’s face into something tender and almost astonished, like he can’t believe this is happening to him, like he doesn’t know that he deserves  _everything_. Ryuji has to kiss him for that, or else he’s going to do something stupid like confess his undying love or something.

He’d mean it, is the thing.

Akira knows him inside and out but he doesn’t seem to know  _this_. Ryuji doesn’t get that, but maybe he doesn’t have to; maybe it’s enough to sink back into Akira’s arms and let each kiss be the  _I love you, I love you, I love you_  he can’t say aloud. 


	12. Day 11 - Aphrodisiacs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** briefly nsfw, implied angst, coffee, really unsubtle flirting
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Goro Akechi is the least subtle, ever.

“Some cultures consider coffee an aphrodisiac, you know,” Goro says. The cup is warm underneath his fingertips, the aroma dark and inviting.

“Do they?” Akira says lightly, wiping down the spotless counter.

“Mmm. Stimulates the mind - and the body.” The first sip is almost too hot, just as Goro prefers it. He hadn’t even had to ask.

“I see.” Akira rests his forearms on the counter, eyes glinting behind his glasses. “And which is more important? Detective.”

Goro can feel the smile curving his lips, and he tilts his cup to hide it. “I’ll let you know.”

The coffee is unmatched, of course - there’s something special about the Leblanc house blend - but it’s nothing to the magic in Akira’s fingertips as they skate underneath Goro’s shirt, in the warmth of his chest against Goro’s, in the drag of his lips against Goro’s skin. But there’s something to be said for anticipation, too; Goro crosses his legs and leans forward, letting his eyes skim over the line of Akira’s shoulders under that unassuming shirt, the fall of his hair over his eyes. Akira catches him watching and smiles, slow and knowing, and Goro takes another sip to hide his answering grin.

“Refill?” Akira offers, reaching for his cup as he sets it down.

There’s a split second where Goro considers saying  _no_ , considers catching Akira by the straps of his apron and pulling him close. Coffee always tastes sweeter on Akira’s lips, something Goro would have dismissed as pure sentiment if it hadn’t also proven to be true.

Instead he pushes his cup across the counter. “Yes, please,” he says, and Akira busies himself with water and beans and spigots. Maybe if he watches carefully Goro will be able to identify what makes Akira’s coffee taste better than any he’s had in the city; even Sakura’s unimpeachable blends lack the thrill of a cup made just for him by gray eyes and long fingers, the same fingers that touch him with something almost like reverence.

Akira sets his cup back down and Goro takes it, letting his fingers brush Akira’s for one brief, electric moment. There will be other moments, later, where Akira’s mouth is fierce against his and his arms hold Goro so tightly Goro wants to ask what he’s afraid of. This moment, though,  _this_ moment is about watching the grin spread across Akira’s face at Goro’s sigh of satisfaction; it’s about a strong brew and stronger anticipation and if Goro can just spin this moment out long enough, he might never have to leave.


	13. Day 12 - Hatesex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** is kissing nsfw?, late-game spoilers, an alternate take on the engine room scene
> 
>  **Summary:** In which the engine room scene goes a different way.
> 
>  **Notes:** this doesn’t really get to the “sex” part of the prompt but I’ve been stalled on this for two days so we get what we get.

“We don’t -” Akira grunts as he blocks a furious swing, the claws of the Black Mask uniform scoring the leather of his coat instead of his face. “Have to - Akechi,  _stop_.” **  
**

“Shut up, shut up,  _shut up_!” Akechi is screaming by the time he finishes, and the next blow goes wild enough to put him off his balance. It’s less than half a second of opportunity but Akira takes it, sliding right into Akechi’s space and grabbing his wrists. Akechi jerks back, trying to twist away, but Akira holds fast, moving with him in an awful parody of a dance.

“We don’t have to do this,” Akira says desperately, and Akechi bares his teeth from behind his mask. He kicks Akira’s feet out from underneath him in answer, but Akira doesn’t think he could let go if he tried and they go down together in a tangle of limbs and sharp edges.

Akira manages to twist enough so he lands on top, Akechi’s breath leaving him in a rush as Akira’s weight hits his stomach. His helmet  _clangs_  off the metal floor of the engine room, and his body goes lax, eyes dazed. Akira takes a chance, releasing one of Akechi’s wrists long enough to shove that cold iron helmet up and off Akechi’s head before tearing off his own mask; it’s probably stupid, wishful thinking but if Akechi sees  _Akira_  and not  _Joker_  then maybe - maybe -

Akechi’s eyes refocus and Akira grabs his wrist again just as those fingers curl into claws, slamming Akechi’s wrists back against the floor. Akechi howls like a wounded animal, trying to buck Akira off but Akira sticks grimly with him, using all the strength he has to bear Akechi down until he stills, panting and glaring wild-eyed up at Akira.

“Well?” he spits, then his lip curls when Akira doesn’t answer. “Oh, let me guess. Too good to get your hands dirty?”

“Stop it.” Akira tries to stamp down the panic in his stomach that says he doesn’t know what the next move is. If he lets him up Akechi will just try to kill him again, but the alternative is -  _not_  an alternative.

Akechi lets out a hysterical laugh, chest heaving underneath Akira. “Oh my god. You can’t do it. After all of this  _you can’t do it_.”

“That’s not what I want,” Akira snaps, mind racing. Maybe if Ann can cast  _Dormina_  -

“When has this  _ever_ ,” Akechi spits, “been about what  _we_  want?”

That hits Akira somewhere deep in the chest, and he leans forward, putting his face right next to Akechi’s.

“I am  _not_  going to kill you, Goro Akechi,” he hisses. “Just because you’ve given up on you doesn’t mean that I have.”

Akechi glares at him, eyes wild and furious, and then his head jerks up and for a second Akira thinks he’s going to get a face full of forehead -

Then Akechi’s mouth is on his, harsh and hot and  _angry_  and Akira feels the world upend itself.

This isn’t - this is everything he wanted but nothing like how he wanted it; and how  _dare_  Akechi use this against him, how dare he take the promise of a thousand weighted glances, of uncountable unfinished moments and fulfill it like  _this_. How fucking dare he take what could have been and throw it in Akira’s face as a fucking  _goad_ , like this will be what pushes Akira over the edge.

Fuck.  _That_.

Akira tilts his head and  _pushes_  back into the kiss; another time he’d worry about the way Akechi’s head  _thumps_  back against the floor but right now the only things that matter are Akechi’s wrists flexing underneath his hands and the startled inhale against his lips. Akira doesn’t give him room to recover, putting everything into the kiss that he hadn’t been able to say:  _It doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix this. Let me help you._

_Don’t leave me._

_I love you._

He’s not sure how much of it gets through, but when he finally pulls back a few inches to breathe, Akechi is staring at him like he’s never seen him before.

“You -” Akechi licks his lips and tries again, his voice strained and hoarse. “You’re a stubborn bastard, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking.” Akira’s not doing much better, all the things he wants to say crowding in his chest until he feels like he might choke. He swallows them back down and settles on, “If I let you up, are you going to try to kill me again?”

Akechi stares at him for a long time. “I don’t understand you,” he says finally.

Akira figures that’s as close as he’s going to get to a  _no_. “I know,” he says, releasing Akechi’s wrists and shifting back enough to let him sit up. Akechi pushes himself slowly into a sitting position, and Akira’s halfway braced for another blow - but it doesn’t come, Akechi watching him with this wary,  _lost_ look that makes Akira want to set fire to everyone who taught Akechi that he wasn’t worth saving.

Instead he gathers Akechi up in his arms, the tightness of his embrace a promise Akira hopes Akechi can hear. After a moment Akechi’s hand settle lightly on his back, and there’s the huff of a breath in his ear.

“Where do we go from here?” Akechi says quietly.

Akira’s grip tightens. “Home,” he says softly, fiercely. “We go home.”


	14. Day 13 - Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Yusuke/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** mostly sfw, human furniture, some D/s overtones
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Ryuji and Yusuke get along quite well, actually.
> 
>  **Notes:** this was originally on my list as just _bondage_ but I maintain that this is a _type_ of bondage.

“Yusuke, c’mon man.” Ryuji’s arms tremble and he readjusts his hands, spreading his weight more evenly. “How much longer is this gonna take?”

“Mmm.” Yusuke doesn’t look up from his canvas. “Don’t move.”

Ryuji sighs and tries not to think about how his knees are killing him. When Yusuke had said he needed Ryuji’s help with a painting, playing  _table_ had not occurred to him; yet here he is, on his hands and knees, with a bowl of fruit balanced on his back.

Yusuke’s calling it  _Still Life with Fruit_ , thinks that’s funny. Ryuji doesn’t get it; Yusuke had tried to explain - at length - but Ryuji had started to be afraid they would both die of starvation before he finished so in the end he had just shrugged and taken off his shirt.

Ryuji’s just glad there’s no one but Yusuke around to see him like this. It’s not like he’s being physically held in place - he could stand up and put and end to this at any time - but he does feel  _bound_ , the weight of Yusuke’s expectation far heavier than the bowl on his back. He could stand up but he doesn’t  _want_ to, not until Yusuke says he’s finished.

It’s just. Really hard, is all. But he’s trying; for Yusuke, he’s trying.

“I said don’t  _move_ ,” Yusuke snaps, and Ryuji’s spine straightens, lightning pricking up and down his back.

“Yes,  _sir_ ,” he says, mostly to himself.

Yusuke’s brushstrokes pause.

When Ryuji looks up Yusuke is looking at him speculatively; it lasts a second, maybe two, and when Yusuke looks back to his canvas his mouth is pulling up in a smile.

“We can discuss that later,” he says as he puts his brush back to the canvas. “If you like.”

“Uh -” He hadn’t meant - maybe he should get up, just so there’s no misunderstanding -

Yusuke glances at him and raises an eyebrow and Ryuji’s cheeks heat.

Okay. Maybe he  _had_ meant it, deep down - maybe he just hadn’t expected Yusuke to  _hear_.

Yusuke’s still watching him. Ryuji shifts, experimentally.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Yusuke says and Ryuji stills immediately.

“Very good,” Yusuke says, going back to his painting; Ryuji breathes out and lets the warmth of that wrap him up, lets it seep into his muscles and carry him through the rest of the session, until Yusuke’s lifting the bowl and setting a hand on his back.

“Ow,” Ryuji says as he unfolds himself, limbs stiff from disuse. He sits up, stretching his legs out, and looks up at Yusuke.

“Can I see?”

Yusuke looks faintly surprised, then pleased. “Of course.” He moves over the easel and turns it.

Ryuji stares.

He’s - he keeps himself in shape, and he like the way he looks - but he’s never seen himself like  _this_ , the late afternoon sun setting the warm tones of the painting aglow, every muscle lovingly outlined and shaded. In the painting he’s turned away, head bent in shadow, and he doesn’t - despite the bowl on his back he doesn’t look ridiculous at all.

“You’re so strong,” Yusuke murmurs, looking at the painting. “And you don’t always use it delicately but you  _can_ , and that is beautiful to see. I tried to capture that.”

Ryuji - doesn’t know what to say to that. What is he even supposed to say to that?  

“I could do a whole series,” Yusuke continues thoughtfully. “ _Strength Restrained_. I don’t know; it’s a working title.” He catches himself and glances back at Ryuji. “That is, if - if you’ll continue to be my model.

He sounds almost diffident; shy, in a way Ryuji’s not used to seeing. Yusuke might be on a slightly different wavelength than Ryuji can keep up with, most of the time, but he rarely sounds unconfident in his pronouncements. Now, though, he sounds like he’s not sure at all; not sure of  _Ryuji_ , at the very least, and Ryuji can’t have that.

“Just let me know, man,” he says, extending a hand, and Yusuke’s smile is tinged in relief as he helps Ryuji up. Ryuji rubs his thumb over Yusuke’s paint-stained knuckles. “Although maybe, uh.” He rubs the back of his head. “Kneepads? Or something? For next time.”

Yusuke’s hand tightens on his, and his smile deepens. “I won’t forget,” he says, and there’s a promise in there that sends a shiver up Ryuji’s spine. “And next time, we’ll talk about  _sir_.”


	15. Day 14 - Hair Pulling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, hair pulling, biting
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Goro discovers something new about Akira.

Akira has Goro backed up against the wall in his attic bedroom, and while normally Goro would never allow anyone to corner him Akira’s mouth is making a convincing argument for an exception. His hands are hot underneath Goro’s shirt; he seems to  _radiate_ heat, and Goro wants to press into it, to soak up all of that warmth so he’ll never feel cold again. He digs a hand into Akira’s hair, fingers dragging over Akira’s scalp, and Akira makes a little noise that gives Goro pause. He flexes his hand and Akira makes the noise again, and that’s - interesting. And worth pursuing. **  
**

Goro fists his hand in Akira’s hair and the noise Akira makes this time is both  _immediate_ and  _desperate_.

 _Very_ interesting.

Goro pulls his hand back, testing, and Akira’s mouth breaks from his on an outright moan that catches Goro’s breath in his chest. He slides his other arm around Akira’s waist, pulling him close as he draws Akira’s head back to what looks like an uncomfortable angle; but Akira doesn’t tell him to  _stop_ , just digs his fingers into Goro’s back and makes these beautiful, breathy little noises that set Goro’s pulse racing.

“Does it hurt?” Goro asks, fascinated. “Or - is that part of the appeal?”

Akira’s chest heaves against Goro’s, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “No. Yes? What was -” He gasps a little as Goro’s hand shifts. “What was the question?”

“Incredible,” Goro breathes. “Could you get off like this, I wonder?” He shifts to slide one of his thighs between Akira’s legs, and Akira swallows, hips pressing forward.

“God, I -” His voice is rough, desperate. “I - maybe.”

From the way his hips are shifting it seems more like a  _yes_ to Goro. “I think you can,” he says, pulling Akira even closer so they’re pressed together from hip to chest, Akira draped over Goro’s thigh and arched over his arm. He leans forward and sets his teeth gently against Akira’s throat. Akira makes an indistinct noise of agreement and rolls his hips against Goro’s, his pulse beating frantically under Goro’s lips.

“I want to see it,” he murmurs against Akira’s skin. “I want to see you come undone in my arms.” He adjusts his hold in Akira’s hair and Akira  _shakes_. Goro sets gentle bites up the line of Akira’s neck, ending with the soft skin under his jaw.

“Goro,” Akira whispers, strained. “ _Please_.”

It always does something to him, to hear his own name from Akira’s lips; it makes him bite down a little harder, and Akira lets out a breathless gasp as his hips jerk erratically against Goro’s thigh. Goro lets him ride it out, until he’s a boneless weight in Goro’s arms, mouth parted and eyes half-lidded, panting out the last breaths of his release. He’s beautiful like this; he’s beautiful always, if Goro’s being honest, but like this - hair damp with sweat and face slack with pleasure - like this he takes Goro’s breath away, and Goro wants to keep him, forever, somewhere where the world can’t touch them.

Akira’s breath evens out and Goro releases his hair, petting over his scalp to ease the sting and smiling at Akira’s grumble of discontent. Akira shifts, leaning in and settling his entire weight against Goro. The kiss is lazy and content, and Goro closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in it.

Akira pulls back after a moment. “Can I trust you not to use this against me?” When Goro opens his eyes Akira’s eyes are shining, but it’s more  _gratified_ than  _smug_.

Goro doesn’t even need to think about it. “No.” He closes the centimeters between them to brush his mouth over Akira’s. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Akira grins against his lips. “Good.”


	16. Day 15 - Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Loki/Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, persona-fucking, Akechi being a little shit, but don't worry Akira’s into it
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Loki and Akira get up close and personal.
> 
> Notes: tumblr user [ohnoktcsk](http://ohnoktcsk.tumblr.com) brought this idea to a group chat many months ago and I have never forgotten it. Obviously.

“I never dreamed you’d agree to this,” Goro says, drawing a gloved thumb over Akira’s lips. Akira shudders, lips parting, and Goro presses his thumb lightly to the corner of Akira’s mouth. “But look at you. You’re trembling. And not, I think, from fear.” **  
**

The bed creaks as Loki leans down, careful of his horns as he scents the back of Akira’s head. Akira’s eyelids flutter, his hands straining, and if Goro concentrates he can feel it, feel the flex of Akira’s wrists underneath their claws. Loki drags his teeth over Akira’s shoulder and Goro can taste the sweat on Akira’s skin; it’s a heady, dizzying rush that leaves him short on breath before they’ve even properly started.

He straightens out of his crouch, fingers parting reluctantly from Akira’s skin as he stands. He steps back and settles himself in the chair pulled forward for this very purpose, crossing his legs and folding his hands. Goro allows himself a moment to appreciate the picture they make: Loki looming over Akira’s back, pinning him against the mattress and Akira, caught in his grasp and watching Goro’s every move with wide, dark eyes.

Loki’s claws flex and Goro’s fingers twitch in sympathy; he flattens them against his thigh and says simply, “Begin.”

Loki lowers his hips and positions himself, and Akira’s mouth drops open on a soundless gasp as Loki starts to push in. Goro had stretched Akira himself, until Akira had glared with wet eyes and demanded that he _get on with it, already_ , but Loki is - not small, and Akira is breathing fast, his eyes wide and wild when Loki’s hips come flush with his ass.

“Deep breaths,” Goro advises, shifting in his chair. Loki pulls out a little and rocks back in, and Goro bites his lip in time with Akira’s soft moan. Akira is hot and tight and he gives way so readily before them, body flexing underneath them as he adjusts to the length inside of him. Akira screw his eyes shut and Goro blinks, recentering himself and leaning forward.

“How does it feel? Tell me.”

“Hot. Cold. Both.” Akira blinks his eyes open, looking up at Goro. “I don’t - I’ve never felt anything like this, I -  _fuck_.” He exhales on a rush as Loki starts to pick up rhythm, head dropping back down to the mattress as his body rocks with each thrust.

“Mmm. Large, too, I imagine.” Goro uncrosses his legs and recrosses them, trying to ease the tightness in his pants. He wants to make this last.

Akira lets out a breathless laugh. “ _God_ , yes. He’s so big,  _fuck_  he’s big -” Akira breaks off, squirming underneath Loki, and it takes Goro a second to realize that Akira’s not just taking it but pushing back into Loki, fucking himself on Loki’s cock with what little leverage he has. Loki rumbles his approval, hips pounding into Akira with a relentless implacability, and Goro inhales as a wave of heat washes through him.

“He could keep it up all night, you know.” Goro says, and Akira looks up at him. “He could fuck you until you came on his cock, and then he’d keep going, until you came again, until you cried. Until you begged me to tell him to stop.”

Akira is staring at him, eyes wide and dark, lips parted and body shaking with each thrust as Loki fucks into him. Akira licks his lips and Goro smiles, because if there’s one thing Akira Kurusu is constitutionally incapable of turning away from, it’s a challenge.

“Think about it,” Goro murmurs. He pushes off the chair and onto his knees in front of Akira. He had meant just to watch but his palms itch to touch; the sensation from Loki is blurring his senses, making it difficult to tell if his hands are folded in his lap or wrapped around Akira’s wrists, if his cock is straining against his pants or surrounded by warm, inviting heat. He reaches out to cup Akira’s cheek and Akira leans into it, exhaling as he presses his face to the leather stretched over Goro’s palm.

“Think about it,” Goro repeats. “We could fuck you all night long, as long as you have the stamina for it - longer, until all you can remember is the stretch of that cock, until you’ve forgotten your own name.”

“ _Fuck_.” Akira draws it out on an exhale. He squeezes his eyes shut as his hips jerk into the bed, and when he reopens them his lashes are wet. “Don’t make - promises you can’t keep,” he gets out, a shadow of a grin flitting over his face before Loki thrusts again. Akira gasps, eyes glazing, and Goro grins.

“Mm, but I do mean it,” he says, pressing a kiss to Akira’s forehead. This close he can feel the icy heat radiating off Loki, the cold warmth that’s always felt like home to him. He wonders what it feels like to Akira. If it’s strange or alien he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it; but then again when Goro had first summoned Loki Akira had stepped forward, not back, eyes shining with wonder and awe as he reached out to touch.

“Ngh, Goro, I - “ Akira closes his eyes again and turns his face into Goro’s palm as his hips press into the bed. “I’m - “ His mouth drops open as his body arches and Goro can feel it when he comes, wringing tight around their cock and shaking under their hands. Goro gasps, closing his own eyes and bracing himself against the edge of the bed as it sweeps through him, warm and tingling from his scalp down to his toes. For a moment it’s almost  _too_ much; he touches Loki’s wrist and Loki’s hips slow and stop, and Goro takes a deep breath as the tide recedes.

When he opens his eyes again Akira’s watching him with a soft, lazy smile. Goro lets himself bask in it for a moment, then one more -

Then he leans over and brushes his lips over Akira’s, pulling back when Akira tries to lean into it.

“I told you,” he says. “We’re not done here yet.”

He touches Loki’s wrist again and Akira’s eyes go wide. Goro settles back on his heels with a grin.

“Begin.”


	17. Day 16 - Costumes/Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** kissing but otherwise sfw, some blade/knife play
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Prince Akechi gets stood up.
> 
>  **Notes:** There can literally never be too many takes on Prince Akechi and Thief Akira

Goro moves through the crowded ballroom, searching for a flash of black and white.

He doesn’t go unnoticed - even at a masquerade, the Crown Prince rarely has the luxury of moving  _unnoticed_  - but the dancers move out of his way gracefully with a tip of the head and no more, maintaining the fiction that on this night, the Prince is one of them. He’s chosen to forgo even the suggestion of a crown in his mask, although he supposes the deep crimson is its own tell. It’s no secret that the Prince favors red.

His father, of course, favors gold, and so the ballroom is awash with it, glittering on the walls and on the clothes and faces of the dancers. It should make a guest dressed all in black easy to spot, and yet.

Goro stand in the center of the ballroom as the dancers move around him, scanning the crowd. He doesn’t see his erstwhile dancing partner.

What he  _does_  see is a door leading off the main hall left ajar.

It’s probably nothing - probably a pair of overly amorous partygoers seeking a bit of privacy - but Goro moves toward it with a growing sense of certainty. The hall outside is empty of guests except for the flutter of a long black coat disappearing upstairs. Goro follows, drawing his blade and softening his footsteps.

When he peers around the corner to the second floor he sees Akira - if that  _is_ his name - kneeling outside the first door, fingers busy at the lock. He’s intent on his examination, so much so that he doesn’t hear Goro’s approach until Goro’s blade slides under his chin.

Goro knows a fair number of princes who carry only dulled, ceremonial blades. That’s never made sense to him.

“There’s nothing in that room.” That’s not strictly true, but it’s more than Akira needs to know.

“Nothing?” Akira lowers his hands slowly, cautious of the blade at his throat. “I didn’t think Your Grace so ill-informed.”

“Appealing to my vanity won’t help you.” Goro puts pressure on the blade, lifting until Akira is forced to stand or have his throat sliced open. He maneuvers Akira back and away, moving to stand between him and the door.

“What will?” Akira’s eyes glint behind the bone-white mask, as if Goro isn’t capable of killing him where he stands.

“Nothing,” Goro says, and Akira has the audacity to  _laugh_.

“I don’t think that’s true, Your Grace.” He steps forward carefully, letting the blade slide across his skin; Goro releases some of the pressure but he refuses to step back and so Akira leans into his chest, Goro’s blade trapped between them.

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Akira says, and then his lips are on Goro’s, warm and  _smug_  and if laying hands on the Prince is a capital crime surely this is treason; Goro leans into the kiss even as his heart whispers  _traitor_.

Akira pulls back too soon. He steps back cautiously, and when Goro doesn’t follow he backs up to the window behind him, left open to capture the evening breeze.

“I’ll be back for that second dance,” he says, then vaults out the window before Goro can tell him not to return. It’s not like he would have listened anyway; Goro has known Akira for less than an evening but he already knows that he’s not likely to be stopped by  _orders_ , even from the Crown. He’ll be back.

Goro finds himself looking forward to it.


	18. Day 17 - Gags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akechi/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, blowjobs in a storage closet, muffled and gagged
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akechi and Ryuji discover that they can get along quite well, given the right circumstances.

“The only way this is going to work,” Akechi says, unslinging the tie from around his neck. “Is if you don’t talk.” Ryuji considers kicking him - only a little, just enough to make him regret his words but not enough to make him back  _off_  - but then Akechi is stuffing one of his gloves in Ryuji’s mouth and pressing the tie over it, pulling it taut and affixing it at the back of Ryuji’s head.

“What the fuck,” Ryuji says, only it comes out “ _whfff fff ffggghh_ ;” but Akechi seems to get his meaning anyway because he smiles pleasantly, thumb running across where the silk of his tie meets Ryuji’s cheek.

“Breathe through your nose,” Akechi advises, and just how does he know enough about gags to know  _that_ , huh, Ryuji would like to know.

Or maybe he doesn’t - maybe what he cares about in this moment is Akechi dropping to his knees in this darkened storage closet, about Akechi undoing Ryuji’s belt and shoving his pants and underwear just far enough down to get at Ryuji’s dick. Maybe what’s  _important_  here is Akechi wrapping his still-gloved hand around the base of Ryuji’s rapidly stiffening cock and gently squeezing.

“Don’t get us caught,” he says, then he wraps his lips around Ryuji’s cock and the back of Ryuji’s head hits the wall.

 _Fuck_ , it’s good. Ryuji doesn’t have it in him to be annoyed that Akechi is apparently as skilled in this as he is in every other aspect; Akechi’s mouth is far too hot and wet for Ryuji to care about how insufferable he is the rest of the time. Ryuji reaches toward Akechi’s head - not to hold him in place, or anything, just to  _touch_ , to have something to hold on to as the muscles in his legs start to shake - but as soon as his fingers brush Akechi’s head Akechi pulls back.

“Touch the hair and I’ll stop,” he says, annoyed, and Ryuji jerks his hand back, clenching his fists at his sides.

Akechi eyes him for a moment and then bends his head again, and Ryuji has to bite down as Akechi’s tongue presses against the underside of his dick. He concentrates on the taste of leather and sweat (and something else, something he can’t define, something like smoke) and  _not_  the muffled noises Akechi is tearing out of his chest. Ryuji can feel himself getting close and he  _wants_  to warn Akechi, it’s polite, right, but his mouth is full and Akechi had said not to touch -

Akechi rolls his eyes up and the sight of the perfect Detective Prince, on his knees with spit-slick lips wrapped around Ryuji’s dick is suddenly too much; Ryuji’s eyes cross and his hips jerk and he doesn’t have enough air suddenly but he’s coming harder than he maybe ever has in his life, head  _thumping_ back against the wall and fingers digging into his palms.

He’s still trying to catch his breath -  _breathe through your nose_  - when Akechi stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He steps in close, watching Ryuji’s face as he pulls Ryuji’s clothes roughly back in order. He seems fascinated by what he sees, and Ryuji considers what he must look like, mouth stretched around the impromptu gag and chest heaving. He wonders if his face is as red as it feels.

Akechi reaches around behind him to undo the tie, wrapping it around his hand and stowing it away in a jacket pocket. He pulls the glove none too gently from Ryuji’s mouth and shakes it out with distaste. “Well, this is ruined.”

Ryuji coughs and works his jaw. “I’ll buy you another one.”

“You will not,” Akechi says briskly. “But you can keep it,” he says, shoving the glove in Ryuji’s back pocket. “As a reminder.”

Ryuji’s breath stutters as Akechi blatantly gropes his ass before withdrawing. “A reminder of what?”

Akechi smiles sunnily and pats his cheek. “That good things happen when you shut up once in a while.” He moves to go, and is almost at the door before Ryuji clears his throat.

“I think,” he says as Akechi looks back at him. “That you should make me.”

Akechi’s grin is slow but promising, and his hand slips into the pocket where he stashed his tie.

“We’ll see,” he says lightly, and then he’s out the door and gone and Ryuji collapses back against the wall.

This thing is gonna kill him, he thinks as he does up his pants. But  _man_ , what a way to go.


	19. Day 18 - Intercrural Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, smut and fluff is the order of the day here
> 
> **Summary:** In which Akira and Ryuji make bad (good?) use of Mementos.

Ryuji leans back on the subway platform, letting the wall take his weight and trying to catch his breath as Akira stands, wiping his mouth. Another train rushes by on the far side of the tracks, whisking - people? Ryuji’s not even sure anymore - down to the depths. **  
**

This is - maybe not the  _best_ place to be doing this, but it is private, more or less; and anyway Ryuji would be lying if he said the wild light in Akira’s eyes as he cuts down Shadow after Shadow didn’t, uh. Do it for him. Morgana would almost certainly have  _words_ if he knew that Akira and Ryuji were making these side trips into Mementos; on the other hand, since these adventures almost invariably end with Ryuji getting blown in a safe area before they head back up - Ryuji’s not going to be the first to say anything.

Akira’s crowding close against him, pressing kisses along Ryuji’s mouth and the line of his mask, the hardness in his pants pressing against Ryuji’s hip.

“Need a hand?” Ryuji presses his palm against Akira’s dick and Akira’s hips jerk.

“Yeah. Wait, here.” Akira’s hands are on his hips, turning him around. “I want to try something.”

It’s an awkward shuffle with his pants still around his thighs but he turns under Akira’s direction, bracing his arms against the wall. Akira presses warm and solid up against his back, arms curling around Ryuji’s chest.

“I want to fuck your thighs,” Akira murmurs into Ryuji’s shoulder and Ryuji’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Can I?”

“ _Fuck_. Yeah, yes, c’mon, do it.” Akira doesn’t waste any time; there’s a rustle of clothing and then Akira’s pressing even closer, his dick pressing against Ryuji’s ass before sliding between his thighs.

He’s gotten Akira off before, with his hands and with his mouth, but this is a new one, Akira’s dick heavy and hot against the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs. Ryuji’s pants are holding his legs pretty close together but he tries to squeeze them tighter, make it better for Akira; he thinks he succeeds because Akira groans in his ear and his thrusts pick up speed. The tip of his dick brushes Ryuji’s balls and they both shudder, Akira’s arms tightening around Ryuji’s chest.

Akira’s murmuring something into the leather of Ryuji’s jacket and it takes Ryuji a minute to realize it’s his  _name_ , over and over with increasing desperation. Ryuji puts his hand over one of Akira’s, lacing their fingers together over his chest, then lifts Akira’s hand to his mouth. He presses a kiss to Akira’s red-gloved palm and Akira shudders against him, his free arm going crushingly tight around Ryuji as his dick twitches between Ryuji’s thighs, painting the wall and a good portion of Ryuji’s legs with his release.

Akira slumps against him, somehow going even heavier; Ryuji squeezes his hand and lets him just breathe for a second. Ryuji has come splattered on his thighs and his pants down below his ass but he wants to keep this moment, as long as he can, with Akira’s breath settling in his ear and his weight warm against Ryuji’s back.

Eventually Akira stirs, uncurling himself from Ryuji’s back, and Ryuji lets their hands slip apart. He pulls the scarf from around his neck and uses it to wipe himself down, pulling his pants back up as Akira steps back and readjusts his own clothing. The scarf he stuffs in his back pocket; he’s not putting it back around his neck but he’s not leaving it for some Shadow to find, either.

“Ready to head back?”  he says, and as he turns he catches the tail end of the softest smile he’s even seen on Akira’s face. It morphs into something more wicked, more self-assured as Ryuji watches; but it was  _there_ , Ryuji  _saw_  it, and it’s doing something weird to his chest.

“Almost,” Akira is saying, leaning in, and his lips are warm and confident and Ryuji is willing to stay here as long as Akira wants as long as he keeps kissing Ryuji like that.

“Mm’kay,” Akira says when he pulls back - too soon, it’s always too soon. “ _Now_  I’m ready.” He winks and Ryuji laughs like he’s supposed to, but he feels his own grin stretching wide because there’s a hint of softness to Akira’s smile still, one that he can’t seem to help.

Ryuji knows the feeling. He lets it carry him back out into the darkness, at Akira’s side, right where he belongs.


	20. Day 19 - Frottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Iwai  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, blood, [vampire steampunk au](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/tagged/vampire+steampunk+au)
> 
> **Summary:** In which Iwai finds that letting Akira drive his cycle has unexpected (but not unwelcome) consequences.

They’re going to get caught; this street isn’t well traveled but it’s not  _empty_  by any means, and even in the alley they’re not so hidden that the gas lamps from the street don’t reach them.

Akira’s pressing his whole weight into him, though, grinding his hips against Iwai’s with increasing desperation. Iwai wraps his arms around Akira’s waist and holds him in place, trying to balance both the bike and the two of them. Akira had barely shut the engine down before he’d pulled his legs up and turned himself around, climbing into Iwai’s lap and kissing him like he needed it to breathe.

Akira slips his tongue into Iwai’s mouth, and Iwai’s about to pull back and tell him to be careful when his mouth is suddenly flooded with the copper taste of fresh blood. His arms tighten around Akira automatically and Akira makes a little noise into his mouth, hips rolling against his as Iwai chases that taste. It’s hard to think past the metallic tang on his tongue and the warm body in his arms, especially with Akira making increasingly desperate noises as he ruts against Iwai. Iwai holds him in place, rolling his own hips up and Akira’s mouth breaks from his on a gasp, fingers digging into Iwai’s back.

“You did that on purpose,” Iwai says mildly and a grin flashes across Akira’s face.

“I don’t -” he bites his lip, closing his lips as his hips grind down. “Know what you’re you’re talking about,” he finishes in a rush. His face is drawn down in concentration and Iwai knows he’s getting close.

“I think you do.” Iwai drags his teeth over the taut skin of Akira’s neck and Akira  _shudders_ , hips jerking once, twice against Iwai’s stomach - then all the tension in his body releases at once and he slumps against Iwai like a puppet with cut strings. Iwai noses along his neck, breathing in sweat and the faint scent of soap. Akira makes a breathless noise of encouragement, and Iwai is sorely tempted -

But they’ve been out here too long already, and it will serve no one if tomorrow’s papers print that the Kurusu heir has gone slumming.

He lifts Akira bodily off the cycle, sliding them off and settling Akira’s feet on solid ground. Akira leans against him, capturing Iwai’s lips in a lazy kiss that proves that he  _does_  know how to kiss Iwai without slicing himself open.

“Thank you,” Akira says breathlessly when he pulls back. “For the ride.”

“Kid, all I did was let you take her out for a spin.” Iwai feels his face crack into a grin. “Anytime.”


	21. Day 20 - Body Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** mostly sfw, hurt/comfort, brief description of healing injuries, post-interrogation room fallout
> 
> **Summary:** In which Ryuji deals with the aftermath of the interrogation.

Akira hadn’t wanted him to see. That’s what Ryuji keeps coming back to.

Akira flinches under his hands and Ryuji immediately gentles them, keeping up a steady stream of low chatter: “Shhh, it’s fine, it’s no worries, I’m just gonna change this bandage, okay? I’m just unwrapping it, just a minute, there we go -” He bites his tongue in concentration as he unwraps the bandage from Akira’s knuckles. Akira’s fingers twitch; he’s not looking at Ryuji, he’s staring at his hand and his eyes are distant. His chest starts moving faster as Ryuji watches.

“Hey. Hey it’s okay, you’re safe now.” Akira doesn’t look up; Ryuji doesn’t know if he’s really hearing Ryuji but his breathing slows. Ryuji reaches for the antibiotic cream, keeping his eyes on Akira’s face. Akira flinches again as the cream goes on, and Ryuji tries to be quick and gentle. He’s not sure how well he succeeds, but he figures the sooner he can get Akira’s knuckles - scraped raw and red and if Ryuji thinks about that for too long he’s going to start  _seeing_  red - wrapped up and out of sight again the better.

“There,” he says, affixing the bandage. “One down, just, uh - just a few more to go, all right?”

There are more than a  _few_  to go, but Ryuji figures optimism is the better part of - something, and anyway Akira nods and slowly shifts to take his shirt off, so that’s progress.

He really hadn’t wanted to let Ryuji help. Ryuji had been about to let it go - reluctantly, and against his better judgement - until he’d heard a crash and a muffled curse from the bathroom. Ryuji had yanked the door open - which he probably should have thought through more, but he hadn’t really been  _thinking_  - to see Akira staring wild-eyed at the contents of the first-aid kit scattered over the floor. He’d started to bend over and then straightened with a hiss, one hand going to his leg.

His hands had been  _shaking_ , and Ryuji had had his arm around Akira’s waist before he’d even known he was going to move. Coaxing Akira upstairs hadn’t been too difficult; persuading him to let Ryuji  _help_ , goddamnit, had been a little more difficult, but it had been worth it.

Ryuji tries to keep his face neutral as Akira’s shirt comes off. It’s - a  _lot_ , if he’s being honest; bruises litter Akira’s torso in angry constellations, blues and reds bleeding into one another in an ugly patchwork. There’s not much he can do about those, so he concentrates on what he can, gently changing bandages over scrapes and places where the skin has split.

When he’s finished the floor is littered with medical tape and used gauze. Akira’s still not looking at him, gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

Ryuji can’t just leave Akira like this. The dressing are all changed but Akira’s still bleeding, somewhere in his mind where Ryuji’s hands can’t reach. Ryuji sits next to Akira on the bed and, after a second, takes his hand. Akira’s fingers flex around his, and Ryuji - has an idea.

He lifts Akira’s hand slowly to his mouth and brushes his lips over the back. Akira’s fingers flutter, and slowly, so slowly, he turns his head. Ryuji holds Akira’s gaze and presses his lips to the bandage over Akira’s knuckles. Akira’s breath hitches but he doesn’t look away, and Ryuji takes that as encouragement to continue.

He turns Akira’s hand over and presses a kiss to his palm, to his wrist, to the inside of his forearm. He leans in and brushes his lips over a purpling bruise on Akira’s shoulder; Akira makes a low noise but he doesn’t tell Ryuji to stop.

Ryuji gets up, moving around to kneel between Akira’s legs, moving slowly but surely so Akira has time to see what he’s doing. He traces the patterns of bruises and scrapes down Akira’s chest, mapping out the path those  _fucking_  cops made against Akira’s skin as if he can push the memories away with his fingers and his mouth. Akira’s chest heaves under his lips when Ryuji presses his mouth to a bruise high on Akira’s shoulder, and the breath he draws in is shaky and rough. Ryuji straightens and settles his hands around Akira’s waist, careful of still-tender skin.

“I know why you had do it alone,” he says quietly. “But you don’t have to do  _this_  alone.”

Akira makes a noise like a strangled sob and then his arms are around Ryuji’s back and his lips are on Ryuji’s mouth. Ryuji leans into it, pushing closer as Akira’s arms tighten around him, trying to crowd out the memory of that interrogation room with this, to replace the feel of large cruel hands with his own, to let Akira know that he’s here, he’s safe, he’s loved.

Akira pulls back but he doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Ryuji’s.

“Thank you,” Akira says quietly, and if his cheeks are wet Ryuji chooses not to acknowledge it. “Will you -” he stops and takes in a breath. “Will you stay? Tonight,” he adds quickly, as if there’s anything that would keep Ryuji from saying  _yes_.

“Of course, man,” Ryuji says just as quietly. “Tonight, tomorrow, as long as you need me.”  _As long as you want me._

Akira’s face floods with relief and Ryuji wonders what the nights have been like, alone in this darkened building except for Morgana. Morgana’s good at cuddles, Ryuji will allow, but he can’t gather Akira up in his arms, hold him safe against the world.

“Thank you,” Akira says again, and this time when Ryuji kisses him it’s a  _you’re welcome_  and an  _I love you_  and an  _I promise_.


	22. Day 21 - Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** pre-Akira/Akechi, semi-implied Akechi/Loki  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** nsfw, Persona 5 spoilers, vague precursor to [Day 15 fill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38256380)
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Loki makes a suggestion.

“ _We like him_ ,” Loki whispers late one night, and Goro rolls over and glares at the ceiling.

There’s nothing there, of course; Loki can’t manifest in this world but that doesn’t stop him from making his opinions known, in the feeling of a large hand on the back of Goro’s neck or a susurration only Goro can hear.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says out loud, and Loki grumbles in dissatisfaction.

“ _We like him_ ,” Loki insists, and despite the mattress underneath his back Goro can feel claws skimming down his spine. “ _Pretty_.”

He’s not wrong. Akira is many things, and  _pretty_  is definitely one of them, from the long stretch of his legs to the the tousled sweep of his hair that makes Goro’s fingers itch to run them through it, comb it back from his eyes so Goro can see him clearly. He keeps his gloves on when they play chess because the brush of Akira’s fingers against his own is almost too much; Goro will allow himself this close and  _no further_  except that now Goro’s dick is starting to take an interest.

Goro growls and shoves the covers down, reaching down into his pajama pants. Loki purrs in the back of his head as he licks his palm and takes himself in hand; if he can just get this  _over_  with maybe he’ll be relaxed enough to get some  _sleep_.

Goro lets his head drop back against the pillow and closes his eyes; he was thinking about Akira already so it’s not a surprise that the first thing that comes to mind is the dark sweep of lashes over gray eyes. Akira’s smirk is devastating no matter how he employs it, but Goro’s breath catches as he recalls Akira straightening as a Shadow disintegrates around him, smile blinding in the darkness of Mementos. In memory Akira had gestured everyone back into the bus, but here in the solitude of his apartment Goro can imagine Akira’s grin turning wider as he sheaths his knife, imagine him closing the distance between them, sliding a hand around the back of Goro’s neck and tilting his head to avoid Crow’s mask as he fits their lips together.

Goro’s breath comes faster, Loki’s approval a warm  _frisson_  down his spine as his hips lift into his hand. Loki curls tighter around his spine and offers his own contributions: Akira on his knees, lips wrapped around Goro’s cock; Akira with his arms bound over his head, chest covered in bites and faint scratches; Akira flat on his own bed as Loki looms behind him, wrists caught up in two large clawed hands.

Goro chokes, eyes flying open. The tension in his gut builds, muscles drawing taut as he chases his release. He reaches over blindly to grab a tissue from the box on the bedside table, fragmented images flashing before his eyes. Akira - he wouldn’t. He might be looking back at Goro but he would draw the line, surely.

 _“Wouldn’t_ ,” Loki says, and Goro doesn’t have a ready answer for that because just the thought that Akira might, that he might retain that glint of interest behind his glasses even if he knew what Goro was  _like_ , what he  _wanted_  -

Goro bites his lip as his orgasm catches up to him, heels digging into the bed as that tension snaps all at once. His teeth dig in as his hips jerk and heat rushes through him; he closes his eyes on Akira’s face as his mind goes blindingly, blessedly blank.

When his heartbeat slows he tosses the tissue over the side of the bed. He’ll deal with it in the morning; right now getting up to throw it properly in the garbage seems like far too much to ask of limbs suddenly gone slow and heavy. He adjusts his pajamas and pulls the covers back up, shivering as the sweat starts to cool on his skin. Loki curls around him, the phantom weight of one large angular arm resting around Goro’s middle.

“Still doesn’t matter,” Goro says sleepily, eyes closing. He’s prepared for an argument but Loki doesn’t give him one, grumbling something that Goro chooses not to hear. Instead he rests his hand on his stomach where the faint pricking of claws can be felt. Loki’s hand flexes, claws entwining with Goro’s fingers.

What Loki wants is irrelevant. Goro is too close to his goal to lose sight of it now; Loki will just have to learn to live with disappointment, just as Goro has.


	23. Day 22 - Collars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Yusuke/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** pretty sfw actually, implied/discussion of D/s, continuation from [Day 13's fill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255942)
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Yusuke and Ryuji talk it out a little more.

“Would you like to see?” Yusuke asks as Ryuji pulls his shirt back over his head.

“Of course, dude.” Ryuji tugs his shirt down and heads over over to where Yusuke’s sitting at his canvas. “Show me what you…got…”

The words trail off as he comes around to Yusuke’s side. It always takes his breath away, to see himself rendered in acrylics or oils (he knows the difference, now, thanks to countless afternoons in Yusuke’s studio), softer than the harsh reality of a phone camera. He wonders if this isn’t more  _true_ , though, somehow - if this is how Yusuke thinks of him, if this is what he sees when he looks at Ryuji.

If it is, Ryuji’s got some questions. Namely -

“What’s - what’s this?” He reaches out but Yusuke catches his wrist before his fingertips can touch the canvas, and Ryuji realizes belatedly that the paint is still wet. He jerks his hand back - the last thing he wants to do is ruin Yusuke’s careful work - and Yusuke lets go.

“Sorry. But uh -” Ryuji rubs his wrist and jerks his chin at the painting. “Why am I wearing a collar?”

It’s tasteful, as collars go - not that Ryuji knows much about that, but it’s not covered in spikes or studs or anything. In the painting he’s leaning back on his hands, chest and stomach on display (does he really have abs like that? He’s going to check when he gets home), and around his neck is a thick brown band with a golden clasp.

The band is the same color as his eyes, Ryuji realizes.

Yusuke is watching him carefully. “It’s part of the series. There are different types of strength, and different kinds of restraint.”

When Ryuji doesn’t say anything Yusuke’s smile slips, and he looks back at his work. “I could probably paint over it, if you like,” he says. “If it’s too much.”

“No,” Ryuji says immediately, and Yusuke looks back at him. “No, it’s -”

He’s not sure what to say next, and Yusuke remains silent, giving him the space to figure it out. Ryuji’s gaze slips back to the painting. The Ryuji in the painting looks comfortable, relaxed, and Ryuji can’t help but wonder if he would feel the same. He can almost feel it around his throat, a solid, comforting weight. A high shirt collar would probably hide it.

He realizes his hand has drifted up to his own throat, and he swallows and clenches his fist, lowering it.

“Nah. It’s part of your - your vision, right? Your artistic vision.” His voice sounds strange in his ears.

Yusuke smiles slowly. “Yes,” he says softly. “It is a part of my vision.”

“And you’re the artist here,” Ryuji continues, getting back on solid ground. “So uh - far be it from me to like, stop you.”

“You would, though,” Yusuke says seriously, and Ryuji blinks. “If you needed me to. Wouldn’t you?”

It’s a weighty question, and Ryuji is tempted to blow it off, to make a joke or pretend he doesn’t understand what Yusuke’s asking. He’s not the best with words; he’s better with actions, so he picks up one of Yusuke’s paint stained hands with his own.

“Yeah,” he says, finding that he does have the words after all. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.”


	24. Day 23 - Handjobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Joker/Akira/Arsene  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** selfcest, threesome
> 
> **Summary:** In which Joker and Arsene take good care of Akira

Arsene’s oversized claws are all wrong for what Joker wants, but they’re perfect for holding Akira still as Joker kneels on the bed between his legs. Joker’s hands are sure and deft on the fastenings of Akira’s pants; he doesn’t even bother taking them all the way off, just pulling pants and underwear down enough to get at Akira’s dick.

Akira sucks in a breath as a gloved hand closes around his cock. He’s going to have dreams about this; he  _ has _ had dreams about this, and he’s not one hundred percent convinced that he’s not dreaming now.

Arsene chuckles, the sound rumbling against Akira’s back, and that feels real enough, as does the heat radiating even through the layers of jacket and shirt. Arsene blazes like a runaway furnace, but he’s never burned Akira. Akira doesn’t think he  _ could _ ; relaxing back into that near-scalding heat feels like coming in from the cold, like coming home.

Joker’s mouth on his brings Akira back to the present, and maybe it should feel weird but this, too, feels like home, feels like something he’s known all along but didn’t have the words to say. Joker nips at his bottom lip, swallowing Akira’s gasp with a grin. Akira’s hips try to jerk up into Joker’s smooth, confident strokes but Arsene holds him in place, clawtips digging into the soft skin of his hips. Akira’s hands fist in the leather of Joker’s coat, pulling him closer; Joker smiles against his lips and obliges, free hand sliding around to the back of Akira’s neck. Akira moans as heat spikes through him, building and coiling in his gut, and when Joker tightens his grip on Akira’s neck all at once it’s too much, and he comes gasping into Joker’s mouth.

Joker strokes him through it, and he looks like he might be thinking about going for another round but Akira is shuddering and oversensitive and he needs at  _ least _ a minute or two so he reaches down to where Joker is hard and straining against his pants. Joker’s hips jerk into Akira’s hand and the noise he makes is  _ definitely _ interested. Akira grins and licks his lips, and Arsene moves with him as he pushes Joker on his back, caging him in with arms and legs and black wings.

Turnabout may be fair play, but this is game where Akira has little interest in playing  _ fair;  _ and anyway, he wins either way.


	25. Day 24 - Threesome

Fic fill - see _[my heart will destroy us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207168)_


	26. Day 25 - Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** reference to past injuries
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Akira either does or doesn't know what he's doing.

It took him a while to catch on, and even after Ryuji realized, he’s not sure that Akira knows he’s doing it. Ryuji isn’t sure which possibility is better; each is terrifying in its own way.

If Akira  _ doesn’t _ know - maybe Ryuji’s reading too much into it. Maybe it’s sheer coincidence that Akira likes to press Ryuji against his bed and trace his hands down his chest, fingers hesitating  _ there _ , where an ambushing Shadow got a blow in, and  _ there,  _ where a lucky  _ bufu _ had hit. Healing magic and Akira’s never-ending supply of only-slightly shady medicine mean that he doesn’t have any scars, but Akira always rubs a thumb over a spot high on Ryuji’s shoulder where he’d stepped between Akira and a pair of oversized Shadow claws.

If Akira  _ does _ know - if the way he traces his lips and his tongue over the spot where Ryuji’s ribs had ached even after Morgana had patched him back together is on  _ purpose _ \- Ryuji doesn’t know what to do with that. Just like he doesn’t know what to do with the fact that Akira’s mental catalogue of the places Ryuji’s been hurt apparently contains incidents Ryuji’s forgotten about; Ryuji doesn’t remember a specific injury to his upper right arm or just above his left knee, but Akira’s hands brush over his skin there with the same careful reverence as the spot high on his temple where a swipe from an inhumanly large hand had sent Ryuji to his knees.

It’s - it’s overwhelming, it’s almost  _ too _ much, and Ryuji has to close his eyes against the look on Akira’s face as his hand comes to a stop over his Ryuji’s heart. He reaches up blindly to cover Akira’s hand with his own. If there’s an injury here Ryuji doesn’t want to know about it, doesn’t want to recover. Ryuji’s been giving pieces of himself to Akira since the day they met; Akira has to know that he has this one too.


	27. Day 26 - Shibari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Yusuke/Ryuji  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** D/s undertones
> 
> **Summary:** In which Yusuke experiments in his new favorite medium. Follows on fills from [Day 13](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38255942) and [Day 23](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38572121).

Yusuke is proficient in a variety of mediums, although he prefers the more traditional. His hand feels more complete with a paintbrush in it, and the world makes more sense when viewed over the top of his sketchbook. He is, however, not averse to trying new things; one never knows when or how inspiration will strike.

His current medium is watching over his shoulder as Yusuke carefully tightens the last knot, fingers gentle but sure on the red silk rope. Yusuke skims his fingers over the line of knots stretching from Ryuji’s wrists up to his neck, tracing the cords over his shoulders and across Ryuji’s bare chest. Yusuke slips his fingers beneath the rope stretched across Ryuji’s sternum and Ryuji catches his breath, letting it out on a long sigh as his eyes fall half-closed.

“How are you feeling?” It’s fascinating. Ryuji is so often in motion, even at rest, leg kicking or fingers tapping, spine curving as he shifts in his chair. Here, however, although his muscles are drawn against his bonds he hasn’t once flexed against them, relaxing under Yusuke’s hands until the only movement is the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“M’good.” Ryuji blinks slowly at him. “I feel - good.” A blush spreads across his cheeks, and a glance down at his underwear shows that he is, in fact,  _ feeling good _ .

Yusuke runs his fingers down Ryuji’s chest and stomach, feeling the muscles contract under his fingers; he could paint this, or sketch it out, even capture it on camera. Black and white would do Ryuji justice, showcasing the smooth planes of his body in charcoal and light and every shade of grey.

Sometimes the art is in the making, though. Yusuke’s painted Ryuji a dozen times by now but he never quite seems to capture the way Ryuji stills under Yusuke’s hands, the delicate quality between tolerance and willing acquiescence. It might be something in Ryuji’s eyes, in the set of his shoulders; Yusuke breathes in and he feels like he can taste it, can  _ almost _ put a name, a color, a shade to what they’re doing here.

He’ll just have to keep practicing.


	28. Day 27 - Dom/Sub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Iwai  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** D/s
> 
> **Summary:** In which Iwai gets the tables turned on him and likes it.

“Hands here,” Iwai says, pressing Akira’s hands against the edge of the storage shelf. The edges of his coat brush at the sides of Akira’s legs as he nudges Akira’s feet apart. “And don’t move ‘em.”

Iwai’s broad hands settle on his hips. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs into Akira’s neck. Stubble scrapes over the sensitive skin behind his ear and Akira shudders.

“I -” Akira tips his head back and Iwai takes the opportunity to set his teeth against the line of Akira’s neck. “I want - you to fuck me?”

Iwai’s lips curve into a grin against his skin. “Be more specific.”

Akira feels his cheeks heat. “I want - I want your hands on me,” he tries, and Iwai immediately slides his hands underneath Akira’s shirt, calluses catching on the soft skin of Akira’s stomach. Akira inhales, hands tightening on the shelf, but Iwai doesn’t make any further moves, just rubs a thumb below Akira’s ribcage, soft and distracting and patient.

Oh. Is  _ that _ what they’re doing.

“Undo my pants,” Akira says, testing, and Iwai’s hands drop, undoing button and zip and pausing, fingers just brushing against Akira’s dick. Akira bites his lip as his hips jerk.

“Get me ready for your cock. Use your fingers.” Akira doesn’t know if that part’s necessary, but it doesn’t hurt, not when Iwai’s pulling his pants and underwear down to the tops of Akira’s thighs,  just far enough so Iwai can skim his thumb between Akira’s cheeks. There’s the  _ pop _ of a bottle of lube behind him, and Akira rests his forehead on the shelf as one cold slicked-up finger presses in.

Iwai knows what he’s doing - or at the very least he knows how to drive Akira out of his mind, working him open and searching for that spot inside Akira that makes him bite down on a moan. Iwai adds a second finger without being prompted, but that’s as far as he goes, and Akira grins to himself.

“Fuck me,” he says, and his voice sounds rougher than he’d anticipated. “C’mon, Iwai, I know you’re waiting for it, so hurry up and  _ do it _ already.”

Iwai makes an agreeable noise behind him and his fingers withdraw. There’s the sound of a foil wrapper being torn, and then something larger and blunter than fingers is pressing against him. Akira licks his lips in anticipation.

“Okay,” he says as Iwai presses in. “Oh  _ fuck _ , that’s good - okay, okay  _ stop,”  _ he says as Iwai’s hips come flush with his ass.

To his credit, Iwai does. “Wha - kid, are you - ok, hang on.” He starts to pull out again.

“ _ Don’t _ .” The word cracks between them and Iwai halts. His confusion is palpable in the air and Akira’s hands flex on the shelf.

“Don’t,” he says again, taking a deep breath, and oh god, Iwai’s dick is so hot and thick inside him he  _ wants _ to move, wants to fuck himself on it, but Iwai’s hands are trembling where they’re pressed into Akira’s hips and his baffled obedience is headier than anything they’ve done before.

“Kid -” Iwai starts, fingers flexing, but Akira looks back over his shoulder and he stops.

“You said to tell you what I want,” Akira says as Iwai’s eyes widen. “This is what I want - you’re going to get me off  _ without moving _ \- if you start to move I’m out of here and I won’t come back for a month.”

Akira could swear he feels Iwai’s dick twitch inside him. “Without - how am I supposed to -”

“You can use your hands,” Akira says generously, a smile pulling at his lips as he turns back around. “And when you make me come -  _ then _ you can fuck me.”

Iwai makes a strangled sound behind him. “You are. You are something else, you know that?”

Akira shifts further back on Iwai’s cock, savoring the way Iwai’s hands go tight on his hips. “Is that a no?”

Iwai doesn’t answer, but he very carefully leans forward, sliding his hand around Akira’s hip to grasp Akira’s cock. Akira gasps, eyes fluttering as Iwai starts to stroke, calluses catching on sensitive skin and introducing just the right amount of burn. Akira’s breath catches as Iwai rubs a thumb over the head, smearing wetness around, and the next stoke is smoother and Akira can’t help the little moan that slips out of him. This time Iwai’s dick  _ definitely  _ twitches inside of him. Akira smiles, catching his lip between his teeth and setting his feet wider, rocking forward into Iwai’s hand and back onto Iwai’s cock, letting heat coil and mount in his gut. It doesn’t take long for the pleasant burn to become a mounting tension as Iwai noses at the back of Akira’s neck. Akira gasps as the faint rasp of stubble trips everything from  _ almost _ to  _ too much _ , and he comes gasping under Iwai’s hands, shaking in his arms and wringing tight down around his cock.

Iwai swears, hands going tight on Akira to hold him upright. He waits until Akira has caught his breath to growl, “ _ Now _ can I move?”

“Yeah,” Akira says, heart still pounding, and immediately loses his breath again when Iwai’s first thrust takes him up on his toes.

“Demanding,” Iwai is muttering between thrusts. “Little - brat. Lucky - I.” He growls again instead of finishing that sentence. Akira grins into his arm and braces himself on the shelf.

“You started it,” he points out, and Iwai mutters something distinctly uncomplimentary - but he doesn’t contradict Akira, either. His hands tighten on Akira’s hips again and he jerks his hips forward, grinding hard against Akira’s ass, and even through the condom Akira can feel it when Iwai comes inside him, dick twitching and Iwai’s breath hot against the back of his neck. Iwai breathes hard against him for a few moments, and then his hands are firm on Akira’s hips, turning him so Iwai can back him up against the shelf and press their mouths together.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Iwai says when he pulls back, and the reluctant fondness in his tone warms Akira down to his toes.

“You did start it,” he says, just to see the exasperated scowl on Iwai’s face, and then quieter, “Yeah. I know.”


	29. Day 28 - Gunplay

Fic fill - see _[you're a loaded gun (and my finger's on the trigger)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152655)_


	30. Day 29 - Against a Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** angry sex, regency au
> 
> **Summary:** In which Akira (or Ren) establishes an alibi. This is part of a magic-regency-thieves au that may get written in 2019.

Akechi’s hands fist angrily in Akira’s - in  _ Ren’s _ dinner jacket and Akira has a moment to wonder if he’s pushed this too far, if this is the moment Akechi’s famous reserve breaks - and then his back is hitting the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and Akechi’s mouth is on his and, oh.  _ Oh.  _ Akira can certainly deal with this.

He had thought it would take a couple more weeks of pushing from Ren to get here, but Akira is nothing if not willing to seize his opportunities as he finds them.

He hooks a leg around the back of Akechi’s thigh and pulls him closer; Akechi makes an angry noise into his mouth but his hips are pressing against Akira’s, rolling in a manner that Akira is very much agreeable to. He braces himself and pushes back, chasing that delicious friction as Akechi holds him fast and grinds against him.

It’s over too soon - but then so is everything, with Akechi; Akira never gets to spend as much time with the detective as he would like - and Akira rests his forehead against Akechi’s as their breathing slows. Akechi uncurls his fingers slowly from Akira’s lapels, as if reluctant to let go - then he looks down and makes a noise of dismay at the wetness staining his trousers.

“Here. Let me -” Akira touches the first and fourth finger of his left hand to his thumb and twists his wrist, muttering the phrase Morgana had taught him. A brief wind tousles his hair, the magic thrilling up his spine, and when he looks down the stains on their trousers have disappeared.

When he looks up again, Akechi is watching him, considering.

“I suppose you  _ would _ have something like that on hand, Amamiya,” he says, although it’s less biting than it might have been fifteen minutes ago.

“Of course,” Akira says, willing the sting to wash over him and letting Ren’s warmth fill his voice. He winks. “A gentleman is always prepared. As you see.” Akechi mutters something uncomplimentary about  _ gentleman _ , but he is slow to untangle himself from Akira and Akira counts that as a win. A partial win. He’ll take what he can get, to be quite frank.

Akechi appears to have other ideas. “Don’t think this will happen again, Amamiya,” he says, running a hand through his hair and resettling his clothes. “This was - an accident. One that won’t be repeated.”

“A happy accident, then,” Akira murmurs, and raises his hands when Akechi glares at him. “Of course, of course. Shall we return downstairs? I’m sure the party misses us.”

“I’m  _ not _ going downstairs on your arm,” Akechi sniffs.

“Then perhaps I should be on yours,” Akira says demurely, and laughs at the look Akechi shoots him. “All right, all right. A compromise, then - I’ll leave, and you’ll follow a few minutes after. We won’t be seen together - and I know how much you hate being seen with me,” he finishes, a bit more wistfully than he intends.

Akechi can’t seem to find fault with this, even though he looks like he would like to.

“Very well,” he says, gesturing at the door. “After you.”

The hallway is empty as Akira closes the door behind him, the noise from the party drifting up the stairs from the ballroom below. He resists the urge to lean against it; he is on a schedule, after all, and Akechi is expecting him to be downstairs when he emerges.

Akira checks his pocketwatch. By this time, Ann and Yusuke should have made it in and out of the vault. It’s time for Ren Amamiya to be conspicuously visible, making the rounds like the young monied socialite he is, fluttering among the glitz and glamour of the ballroom and nowhere near the vault on the third floor. A good alibi is important.

His  _ other _ alibi is liable to murder him if he emerges from the library and sees Akira still standing here, however, so Akira flips his pocketwatch closed and heads for the stairs, humming to himself. He wishes he could see Akechi’s face when he discovers that the Rodinger estate jewels have gone missing despite his best efforts; he’ll have to settle for the memory of Akechi’s mouth on his and that, Akira thinks as he rejoins the partygoers downstairs, is more than a fair trade.


	31. Day 30 - Sleepy Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Joker/Akira  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** selfcest, early morning handjobs, morgana suffers the most
> 
> **Summary:** In which Akira has a nice dream.

Akira rolls over when he hears Morgana’s feet  _ thump _ on the floor and stalk off toward the stairs, but he can’t quite make himself open his eyes. It’s still early and he’d been having such a nice dream -

There’s a warm sensation like an arm around his middle, and - yeah. That kind of nice dream.

Akira breathes out and lets himself slip back into it, into the feel of dream hands on his chest, on his sides, skimming over his skin with love and care. It hardly matters who they belong to - he can feel clearly the affection on the other end, pressed into his skin with every careful touch.

He’d gone a long, long while without being touched at all. It’s better, now; Ryuji can’t seem to keep from bumping his shoulder or slinging an arm around his neck, and Ann loves to hang off of his arm, holding him close. He’s certainly not complaining. But this is more than he’d expect from either of them - although he certainly wouldn’t turn them down if they offered - and as the hands move down between his legs Akira bites his lip and turns his face into the pillow.

He breathes carefully - these dreams are always too short, and he wants to make it last while he can, hips pressing up into that gentle weight as heat builds in his stomach. It’s over too soon; almost doesn’t realize that he’s come, warmth suffusing his body and leaving him drowsy and sated.

There’s a thoughtful noise behind him and Akira’s eyes fly open. The bed dips and that’s not - that’s  _ definitely _ not Morgana -

It’s not Morgana, although Joker looks as satisfied as any cat when Akira rolls over, adjusting his gloves and running a proprietary hand through Akira’s hair.

“Good morning,” he purrs, leaning down to press his lips to Akira’s, and this is - surely this is crossing  _ some _ sort of line but Akira feels too good to argue so he kisses back, eyes closing.

When the weight on his mouth lifts, Joker is gone again, and Akira lets his head fall back against the pillow.

There’s a small noise from the stairs, and Akira looks over to see Morgana’s head poking up above the top step. “Is it safe?”

“As safe as it ever is.” Akira yawns, ignoring the flat look Morgana gives him. He stretches, enjoying the loose heavy feeling in his muscles until a four-footed weight lands on his chest.

“Give a guy some warning, would you?” Morgana says testily, batting at Akira’s nose.

Akira reaches up to skritch behind Morgana’s ears and Morgana’s eyes slip halfway closed, purr starting up reluctantly. “I get just as much warning as you do.”

“Hmmph. You should get up. Day’s a-wasting, and all that.” Morgana hops off Akira’s chest and curls up next to the pillow.

“And you’re just going to - what, nap?” Akira says, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Yes,” Morgana says placidly. “ _ Some  _ of us have sleep to catch up on.”


	32. Day 31 - Roleplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing:** Akira/Akechi  
>  **Warnings/Tags:** a small bit of angst
> 
>  **Summary:** In which Goro dares to dream about how things might be different. Continuation of the prince Akechi/thief Akira au from [Day 16](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348142/chapters/38256407).

“Would things be different,” Goro asks the canopy above his bed. “If I weren’t the prince?”

He’s not expecting an answer. Akira’s breath has evened out into the pattern of sleep, and this is not a conversation Goro particularly  _ wants _ to have; nevertheless it’s been brewing in his chest, the question building behind his teeth, until he feels like he might choke on it. If he  _ must  _ ask it, better to ask it while Akira can’t answer.

And so of course, Akira stirs next to him, lifting his head.

“No,” he says, covering a yawn with one hand. “I think your disregard for my sleep goes beyond royal prerogative.”

Goro should let it go, play it off as a joke. “And  _ your _ insolence would likely have you jailed before we ever met. I’m surprised you’ve managed to escape it thus far.”

Akira shifts to his side, propping himself up on one arm. “Feeling the restrictions of courtly life, Your Grace?”

“Don’t -” Goro bites his tongue before he can say the rest.  _ Don’t call me that. _

He can practically  _ hear _ Akira thinking, and Goro searches desperately for a way to salvage this.

“Say - say I was the son of a merchant, or a - a sheepherder.” His mouth seems to have stopped taking orders from his brain. “Would we still - would you -”

The bed shifts, and there’s a hand on his cheek, turning him to face Akira. “You burn more brightly than anyone I’ve ever met,” Akira murmurs, and the sincerity in his voice steals the breath from Goro’s lungs. “And that has nothing to do with who your father is, or the station you were born to. I would ask to kiss you whether I had met you on the docks, or in a guild hall, or on the dirtiest back street this city has to offer.”

“You  _ didn’t _ ask me,” Goro feels compelled to point out.

Akira rolls his eyes. “Because you would have said no.”

“So you only ask permission when you know the answer will be yes?”

Akira’s eyes glint. “So the answer  _ is _ yes.”

“Of course it is,” Goro’s mouth says without his permission, and Akira’s grin widens as he leans in. His lips are as warm and sure as ever, and Goro leans into it, hoping Akira can’t feel the desperation in it.

Or maybe Goro hopes he does. Akira seems to have an answer for everything else. Maybe there’s an answer for this, too.

Akira draws back after a moment - too soon, always too soon - and shifts closer, laying his head on Goro’s chest and slinging a proprietary arm around his middle. Goro lifts his arm cautiously, settling it around Akira’s shoulders, and blows out a sigh when the world doesn’t come crashing down around him.

“I think I’d find you,” Akira murmurs against Goro’s chest. “Or you’d find me. Whoever we were.”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” Goro says.

“Neither do I,” Akira says, lifting his head and pressing his lips to Goro’s jawline.

There’s nothing Goro can say to that, so he tightens his arm around Akira’s shoulders, as if holding him close will keep the rest of the world at bay.

He doesn’t believe in destiny; that much is true. But he might be starting to believe in Akira.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr or [@36SaveFiles](https://twitter.com/36SaveFiles) on Twitter!


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